Chaotic Gibberish

I haven’t always been who I am today. It’s a surreal experience when you realize, that moment you changed, that moment you transformed and recreated yourself has already passed. Perhaps it’s not a moment, but more likely a process taken over a long period of time. That sounds more realistic. I’m not so sure though. When I look back and think about where I was a year ago, I find a cheeky grin slowly taking over my face. Who was that girl? She masquerades as me, yet I don’t recognize her. Are they still called memories if all you’re left with are a string of images but none of the feelings associated or attached to them? It’s like watching a foreign film with the wrong subtitles. Gibberish. Chaotic gibberish. That’s what these memories are to me.

Who is that girl? She seems lost. I know why, but I can’t seem to remember that feeling anymore. I want to know what that felt like. I want to remember. I never want to forget. I can find myself caught in the rain; drenched, but I don’t feel wet. I don’t feel the cold. Is it weird that I want to be able to feel that pain again? That I want that association? That connection with the seemingly empty muted hollow reflections of my past.

Who is that girl? I want to know her. If I’m thirsty enough and I dig deep enough, will I find spring water? If I find her, will I know how to handle her? What if I never find her again? A constant elephant in the room. Although she finds home in my heart, I just can’t figure out which damn room. Maybe she hides, or maybe she’s constantly on the move.  Sometimes it’s hard to know whether there’s still something buried and boiling underneath it all or whether it no longer exists because you've evolved and overcome. I can’t assume one or the other. I can’t afford too. It’s easy to roll with it and not look back but just run ecstatically when you’re on a particularly good high. I’m not getting off this ride; I’m just stopping to ask for directions and to make sure I have enough fuel to keep me going. I will not be lost and I won’t be stranded. Happiness isn't something I chose, I felt happy. I continue to feel this way and I choose to stay on this path.

 But I want to know her. I feel like we can and should use our past, not lock it up and leave it behind. We are continuous, we are ongoing. We don't stop or stand still and start over, we are endlessly ever changing. We accumulate. We are all hoarders of our own thoughts, desires, fears, memories, experiences. You're not who you were or who you will be or even who you are right now; you just are. You are fluid. You are a stream and your rivers run deep.

I need to know her. There won't be any surprises on this trip; no blind spots or loose ends. I want the control.

Who is that girl? I don't just want to see you, I want to feel you.

Chaotic gibberish. 

_______________________________________________________

“Oh soul,
you worry too much.

You have seen your own strength.

You have seen your own beauty.

You have seen your golden wings.

Of anything less,

why do you worry?

You are in truth

the soul, of the soul, of the soul.” 

- Rumi

College

Everything was so new, so intangible. I felt safe in my room. My haven, my space. Every time I found myself feeling uncomfortable, I’d think about my bed. Every time I found myself unsure of how to act or what to say, I’d think about the liberty I had to be free in the privacy of my own room. I never had a place to call my own before. It felt mysterious. I felt like I had the key to a hidden world that I possessed. Everything that happened behind my door was my memory, my experience. It was my environment.

Everyone I invited inside my world had become a part of my story. It was nice to have a place to locate my thoughts. A place to fall back on. Security. That’s all you ever want to feel in your home. Safe.

I have felt it all. Or so I like to think. Or maybe so I’d like to hope? Sometimes I get triggers or reminders that lead me to look back on my life and I just think to myself; I have such a strange life. But then again, isn't everyone’s life just a different version of a string of strange, warped, random, unexplainable events? We never really know why, we just know what is.

I have tossed and turned. I have wrestled. Blood, sweat and tears. But I have felt pure joy. I have felt a love so strong it could carry me. I have laughed and I have felt complete. I've ordered enough pizza to feed an army. How fun that was, having someone to eat with. Having someone to  enjoy with. It’s funny, the only times I miss are the times we were doing nothing. There’s beauty in feeling happy in stillness.

So often, we’re chasing the rush. We’re chasing that feeling you get when you have energy to last you till the A.M and everything just flows. You channel the vibe. Your waiting for that moment where everything just spins around you, images you see become snapshots in your head, a montage of the night. Everything you say and hear is funny. Were you always this cool? Who knows, we never talked. Not until now.

But do we need it?

I think I like feeling weightless. 

Metamorphosis

I sink into what feels eerily like quick sand, I struggle and fight, but I get nowhere as I feel myself get sucked into my demise. I have time. Time is all I have. I reach out and I hold on to anything I can get my hands on. Something that will save me. Something strong enough to pull me out of this unforgiving black hole. Soon enough I come to the realization that I am just buying myself more time. There’s no saving me. There is no salvation. I am stuck, and this is where I will exist. 

I will never stop fighting. I will not quit. I will not give up. 

Call it determination. Call it strength. Call it human nature. I have stopped asking what or why. This is my existence. This is who I am. I am not determined. I am not strong, I simply am and this is who I will be. 

My stomach rises up into my mouth and I feel as if I were floating. I’m numb but I’m overcome by this tingling sensation. Is it hot in here? How can this be? How can I feel nothing but feel everything at the same time? I feel anxious yet excited. I am not moving but I am flying over your heads. I am soaring and you will never know it. You will never see it. 

My blood boils to the point till I feel nothing but cold. Icy cold hard shiny metal. Titanium runs through my veins like a beat that won’t quit. I cannot contain it. It only gets louder. I am metallic. I will transform, resist, adjust, create, amend, craft, distort, revise, withstand. This is my metamorphosis. 

Watch me while I pass you by