~ 7/16/10

I long for the late nights and wee hours of the morning I poured my soul onto the page, as if the words came from some higher entity, not giving a thought to where they came from or why. Now, my mind is my worst enemy. It's critical of everything I say or do and punishes me for mistakes and lapse in judgment by closing doors and building walls. I was never a wall builder, I've known plenty of them to sense one; I know how they think, and why they feel the need to close themselves off emotionally. But for me, it's the opposite. I'm in no way looking to prevent myself from feeling. If anything, I yearn to break through these walls that seem to build themselves involuntarily. I can't seem to tap into my heart, never mind gaining access to my soul. I can't even meditate as a means of levitating to higher stories in the spiritual world. They are impossible to climb on my own. But maybe searching for a short cut is why I keep sliding. The secret to hanging on is to climb the entire way, rather than believing the exhaustion, frustration, and defeat entitle me the right to float through life.