Scars

Today was surreal for you. You went through so many emotions and I don’t believe you have dealt with any of them. I’m proud of you though. You’re still trying, regardless of how defeated you feel.

I realized I wasn’t writing for me up, until this point. I was writing for an audience and this is not my intent. I’m doing to heal. I am doing this to find the answers I seek. I’m doing this to function at my highest self. I am in the process of self discovery. It’s time to please me. I want to see what I am able to actually able to do.

I have been tested in many different phases of my life. That’s what aging is about. Going through phases of find your right and your wrongs. Your morals. Your norms. Your rules. There’s that damn word again. Always worried about following the rules, but yet I am the first to break everyone else’s rules placed before me. But fuck if I will go against any of my own. And that is why I am where I have been in those different “phases.” (This whole starting my sentences with conjunctions is killing me)

However, look where that has gotten me to this point. More and more lost as the years pass by. “Every phase, every year, every stage of life passes me by as I look through the glass wall that I feel is placed by my subconscious mind every time I interact with anyone.” In theory, that glass wall I speak of is how I see my soul.

A soul by our mind’s definition is meant to be transparent and made of energy. It’s not meant to be made of glass. I see myself as that ” FRAGILE, Handle With Care labeled,” soul. Most would say the heart would be more made of glass (BLONDIE) But I believe it’s my soul that I allow people to crack. I am not at all innocent as you will see shortly.Every interaction with anyone is seen as a two way mirror. A duel of emotions, who will take the first shot, me or you? Who will pull the trigger first?

IT’S ALWAYS ME!

I would rather be the one crackin my glass soul than anyone else. I am able to punish myself, in a way, having another crack in the glass. Just another story told by the ink in my skin. Another scar left by myself, on this really painful self discovery journey. I don’t want to give myself these scars any longer. Those are my scars. Papa Roach said it better “I tear my heart open. I sew myself shut. My weakness is that I care too much.”

I haven’t cared enough about myself, but I sure as hell have left enough scars. But I’m here now talking about it. That’s how I fix those cracks and eventually afford a brand new mirror. A new mirror for myself to see me and not a war facing me head on or any time I interact with ANYONE.