|
be random what is now when is then where is email who i am how it is why it is leave a note? share me, share you make me smile thank you other journals (of course I should be sleeping) (what's life got to do with it?) about me (too much to know at once) friend? (tic tic tic, toc) BE MY GUEST (BOOK) << MISSING �SOMETHING? >> the bottom line who can when i had the time the first of december (has another song) what i do < ? me # > < ? harrychapin # > < ? Random Acts of Journaling # > < ? Poetic Voices # > < ? The Write Club # > < ? Nights Awake # > < ? Fluid # > < ? Adopted # > < ? Childlike # > < ? Poets-Muse # > < ? Five Hundred # > < ? As You Wish # > temporary place holder ()))CRAYON-BOX)))> published blogmad! varb? �2015 CANDOR COMMUNICATIONS IF YOU WANT TO USE THE WORDS FOR ANY REASON TALK TO ME |
no exit, stage left I never meant for his to be a personal conversation presented as a public diary, so for me, it never truly will be... even if sometimes the words may be so directly inspired by the feedback I receive directly in my ear from a human voice that is not my own, as real as the hand that puts fingers on my chin to draw my eyes to contact with eyes that are not my own, or even another tongue that touches my lips... there is always the audience, for this is a public stage and awareness is not something I choose to turn on and off... I wonder sometimes if I could... and yet, should this be a public stage and we are aware that we are then, no matter how real we wish to become, at least in part acting roles we create on the fly (or perhaps, for others, with careful forethought and planning), perhaps it can it be no more or less real than the stage of life itself...as real as my mind allows it, as I dare accept the feeling inspired by reading, as I ask the question... do I once again dare believe that words might be able to be lead me to the actual physical fulfillment of the wish list of my heart?... dreams come true?... or should I much more wisely remember that the words are fantasies, no matter how real it feels... until the eyes actually meet and hands actually come into contact with flesh, the words are presents from the universe without defnite personalization or human identity attached... just, and yet so far from mere, symbols of emotions I create within myself, feelings borrowed from thoughts that others present on their own stages... and what if this is all there is?
previous - - - - - - - - next - - - - - - - - comment? - - - - - - - -
I love you all for coming... for reading all these words for every click feels like more love (I know that sounds absurd) if I could only tell you... one thing more tonight I'd say I wish you could come home with me and be my friends for life |