The Older I Become

The older I become 

The more narrow my focus,

The less I have to say,

The more I have to think

The older I grow

The less time I spend,

The more time I waste,

 The less I care

The older I am

The more comfort I seek,

The less arguments I start,

The less energy I spare

The older I stay

The more I maintain,

The higher the threshold,

The harder I fall

The older I live

The less I speak

The more love I give

The more peace I have

One Day

One day I will actually create art again. Its been a painful uphill battle to start again.

Binded to Bedlam

Too many word, too fast to write down

And the greatest bit of all is that they make no sound

Though you may see me quiet and calm

Internally, cognition is perpetually so loud it is profound

Some noise is foolish, like a child learning speech

Random patterns in unorganized sequences to which they peak

And as my physical being, I may appear small and meek 

But if you could hear the noise inside, it would be clear that I am not weak

I break barriers with words, provoking mindfulness to all

As my heart desires truth, my mind unrelentingly answers each call

Through pain, through evil I do fight, but the one thing I can't shake:

I must be ever cautious as I climb to my transcendence

There remains an equal and opposite potential that I may fall

What you may call "Soul Searching"

Transcendental Revival is Essential to my Survival

In the endless sea of seas
Across the path of manipulative thieves
And false profits - preachers do seize
The honest mans' only payment for deeds
There does exist a potential to perceive
The chaotic truth and the peace in need

In nothing more than the clothes on your back
The fire in your eyes, motivation irrelevant but intact
Transcend the enemy's means of soulless life hacks
In nothing more than powerful literate attacks
I follow independently in a familiar track

A similar fashion I seek to revive - which I once wore so well
That tier of excellence you've achieved and from I once fell

Chaos to Peace: I am Human.

Like perfection, the concept of complete happiness no longer feels practical or even relevant. I no longer possess the energy to waste a single moment of my time mulling over unrealistic notions that leave me feeling... less than human. 

But I am human. Sometimes that frustrates me just the same. I will make mistakes, I will have failures, and I will always be changing - developing, evolving.

All of the "in between" I've wasted so many days fighting to be at peace with happens to be the very conflict that creates chaos, the opposite of that which I attempt to accomplish within myself. 

So happiness - I'm no longer concerned with. Above all desires I have: knowledge, intellect, self awareness, and self sustainability - peace within myself has taken top priority. 

The moment I gave up on the idea of  "happiness", and began to find peace was the moment my entire perspective changed. And the moment I change, the world around me suddenly made more sense, and once again I feel human.

I am human.

And so are all of you.

the post before The Post

There's writing to soon follow.

"Why?" Part 1

Where do I even start. "Why?"

Before I even started this post, I had re-written the word "why" so many times it started to sound like a foreign language. I enjoy the small, insignificant things in life that we so often take advantage of. Like saying a wording so many times, the sound itself loses meaning to the ears.

Ok, moving on. I want to explain (for the second time, but so much time has passed I feel I need to reevaluate the reasons) of why I write. I have a problem where I write the way I talk, so this will not be formal. Essays are extremely tedious to me for that exact reason: I can't just write what I want to literally say. Every single fucking statement, word, letter, punctuation mark has its place. I understand that translating what you think to what you say is difficult enough, but a simple step forward - actually putting yours thoughts into words on a paper - can be more complicated than differential equations to some people.

I write and create visual art for similar reasons, but different emotional outlets. I draw no matter what mood, I just need a visual muse to stimulate my brain. My visual art is also purposefully more unrealistic or even surreal because it can be. However, when I write, I write with purpose. I write with reason. I write to show the world I'm not afraid of unmasking the deep, dark truths of the world we share. We do share it, and I want to put in my two cents because people forget that very notion. People forget that EVERYONE else, with few exceptions, has feelings, emotions, opinions, preferences, logic, reasoning and self-worth. I write because I am a person, and I have all of these. I want my print on the world to not be one of many forgotten and insignificant prints left behind, but a name remembered for honesty, and ability to question anything and everything.

Our ability to ask the question "why" is more significant to me than our ability to breathe in oxygen and convert it into carbon-dioxide and breathe it out. 

I'm also astounded by ability to have to go to the bathroom and be completely unmotivated to continue this post I was just to ridiculously passionate about. Surprise, surprise. My strong ambitions fall short, and this is the perfect example of why I'm not famous. 

I promise to attempt better consistency.