All of the feelings in between.

Just gratitude. For it all. For the struggle and the same lessons learned time after time after fucking time. Or for the love and arms or even the drives to know where. Or the falling and the crying and the I'm out of my mind. For the whole fucking thing. The long, endless journey with no destination besides fullness and aliveness or death in numbness and comfort. For each growing pain along the way and the sheer panic and moments of crystal clear clarity. Every fucking breath, every fight, every smile and every rain storm. For every sunny morning. For everything. 

Gratitude. Day One.

I'll start with you.

Since you're always the first thing that comes to my mind. This isn't because you're obvious. It's because you make me stronger. When I'm spiraling out of control, and you stop me. And remind me to breathe. Because you stand up for me, and stand up to me. And set me back in humility. To remind me how far I've come, and how very far I must go. Remind me to let the stress slide right off my back, because no matter what, you've got me. And I've got you. 

Do the fucking work.

As we get deeper and deeper, I get more and more peeled away. As you strip the layers of superfluities, you see the core. Radiant light yes, but deeper than that I see imperfections and rawness. When it's possible to be so insensitive and so sensitive at the same time you question everything you do on a level that makes you consider what kind of person you're being daily. Who am I? (I) Could I have handled that better, did I let myself be carried away? While being graceful cloud of energy masses floating from scene to scene it's so blissfully easy to be pulled by the inflation and deflation. In the pull of life, to create your own rhythm and float? How? You love. You love hard. It's only bullshit when your ego gets involved. Don't fool yourself into thinking your judgement is safe, and pure. None of us have enlightened in to evaporation, so you can be sure there is work to be done. Your world is a reflection of you alone. 

Crowds

Sometimes I can't breathe in crowds because I can hear what they're thinking. And I don't understand why they can't feel their souls. I loose mine in the chaos of trying to exist in society, but then when I die enough I hear her cry out to save me. When money and stress chain me to this real world in a way that makes my heart constantly beat sorrow, I can only find my bliss by connecting with my body and the words I love you. You ask why I say it so much, I can only explain all I do is feel. Feel everything, every molecule in my beating and vibrating body with joy or pain or whatever concoction my consciousness can imagine up. I only know how to bleed them and try to follow the lightness. For one day of auto-pilot makes me die a little more in a way that I cannot describe to anyone who has never freed themselves. I see the way you look at me and I know you don't understand why it's so hard for me to be like you. I never wished I could, but never imagined how painful and lonely my path could be. I stopped writing because I was connecting with my heart in a different way, when I realized I was always alone the words came back.