Im rereading pages i wrote after i returned from europe. I was very poetic after that. Was happy to be home, and loved simply going for walks. A very reflective time. Years ago i read through this journal and under lined random passages that stood out to me. Im not sure if it does justice to share random quotes from my old writing, but figured ill start there and see what happens.
Life is yingyang. I can only witness the dancers of pain and love twirling prancing back and forth together, echoing each other.
Trying to be specific but its all et cetras. Endlessly searching for the unfindable treasure.
We are the type who ask to win the lottery but never buy a ticket.
The worst wine is right off the vine.
There were times were travel began to overlap with bragging, flaunting places one has gone. Being somewhere stressing about where you are going to go. [I read this now and it strikes me as sad to read this!]
The difference between love and loving.
Ive been evicted from my consciousness.
Constantly wanting to change plans rather than stick with the plan i had.
This is a bit of a tumblr. Its challenging – what to do with so many words and pages and journals. And who says i need to do anything with them. I feel im bringing myself to a place where i just feel comfortable burning them all and allowing a new space to open in my life. Allowing a lightness. Releasing expectations i need to do or be anything. To regenerate my self perception. Theres this clinging to old journals i have. Thank you random readers for hearing this! It does feel slightly vulnerable and i can feel my inner senses trying to pull back the reigns and ‘sober up’. Well. Atleast i showed up today. It would be much more comfortable to talk about things or places or others rather then talk about myself. But isnt that the one thing i perhaps have some right to speak about. My self? Must everything be more generalized. Data driven. Unspecific. Dunno. All i know is im challenging myself to read some of my old journals and write on my blog. I do feel exhausted so thats probably also contributing to the wildness i feel. Ive reread my writing after a good sleep and its usually less extreme or dramatic then i imagined it to be in the moment. Maybe this is a calmness that im unacknowledged. Oh well. Ive done my post. Night!