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SELF PORTRAIT

Indecisive, uncertain, insecure, doubtful, unreliable, inhibited girl. Passionate rarely, apathetic mostly, lacking always.  Empathetic, nice, numb, sad. Grateful, undisciplined quitter. Heavy, shy, thoughtful, realistic. Logical, submissive, obedient, void. Soulful, selective, salient, secretive writer. Strange, different, proud, honest. Alone in a world of surrogate fillers; illusions of completeness.

Tiptoeing  around self loathing while free-falling in love with myself everyday. A recipe for disillusionment from a world of hypocrisy and tainted truths. A child in the commoners’ eyes, and a troubled mismanaged old soul in reality. Drama queen at best, possible proof that i am mislead by my youth after all. I dream of becoming a dreamer, but dreaming is escaping reality. So i dwell in the mess of that truth, a form of wreckage that people run away from by chasing their dreams. Happiness is not in those dreams but in making peace with what reality offers.

Pursuing a purpose, a meaning and a reason, but i have no clue still. Contrary to usual tendencies, the last thing i want is to live forever; the idea is as troubling as it is infinite and whole. I want to know every step of the way that i am getting closer to an end that should answer all my questions.

An over analyzing hopeless romantic. An endless dreamer and a simple – minded wide hearted being. The only way i understand reality is through the magic of my soul. The only reason i identify sadness is because natural joy floods me. The print of every word i write is a breath so involuntary that it surprises me every time. This cruelty of a mind molded both by experience and the lack of it is always heavy; except redeeming truth flowing out of my fingertips lifts me up every time.

My words are salty and moist, they sting when the wound is open; yet they heal when my world runs dry. My words stray but they always come back to comfort me. They prove to me that a voice is only beautiful when it is soulful and true. I sail and i listen to people’s stories knowing that mine belongs to these words. The day i ran to my notebook instead of a person, i gave those words absolute power and i rendered myself a mere messenger.

Simplicity finds me as i end this text; i believe its time i let go and surface.

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What is a woman?

She lowers her voice, goes into an almost silent harmony of singing me to sleep. I could still feel her hand on my hair petting me as though i am still not more than her baby girl.
I close my eyes for that is the safest in the world i will ever be. That is where i have always and will forever belong; physically, mentally, metaphysically and emotionally, with her.
She thinks i dove into sleep, but i was savoring the silence while fully conscious of the moment and her presence.
I shared her life, i completely changed her, simply by existing. I watched her and followed her, i cried for her and laughed with her. I listened to her, i heard her. She was the woman who trained me to be myself, and by that a very similar version of her.
I saw her not as a mother but a person with dreams, hope and pain. I walked with her even ran to catch up; she made me.
What is a woman?
A woman loves, adores, risks and feels. She thinks, doubts, calculates, follows logic and her heart.
A woman cures and heals, she fixes the wreckage within men and other women. She picks others up but can destroy too. She has powers beyond reason. A woman is furious and insane.
A woman is intelligent and eloquent.
A woman smiles to let things go, she does not nag or worry aloud, a woman is responsible for her own problems and needs. A woman understands herself in order to contain others.
A woman is her and i. A woman is what was presented to me, a real show of endurance, dedication and truth.
A woman is still singing me to sleep though she has no one to sing for her. A woman does not pet me, she surrounds me; within and without.
The never ending song in my life..

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Humanity disappointed me

I am growing up. Not the pretty way, the real way. Im a very positive and hopeful person yet experience puts that to shame and wins everytime. Im disappointed. The world, humanity, people and chances are all disappointing.
People talk about social networking; i cannot open my homepage without seeing not one but several pictures of dead or brutaly killed people. Is that okay now? Have we lost all sorts of respect for the human body or the soul that lived there? Is violence so normal and natural as to spread pictures of it and say oh thats bad, lets all feel bad about this picture, maybe cry too.
If we use the right titles i might agree more though since im a logical person. For example dont show me pictures of bombing and murder squads and call them democratic forces, be kind enough to realize that democracy hides behind the last carrot thrown and call it violence for that is what it is.
Do not show me double standards, false news, media blackouts, and call it revolutions, be kind enough to call it anarchy and chaos.
Lets just set the bar lower for our expectations and start dealing with the world as it really is. We are beasts well trained to believe that society and culture mold us into civilized people of nation states. Might as well drop the cover and state our claims for us humans stop at nothing.
Social-religious issues are breaking apart, loyalty is laughed upon, order is mocked, freedom is relative and honesty is blasphamy. It is time to reevaluate our principles and our standards, our beliefs need to be refurbished and divinity questioned.
It is the time to question, doubt and think about Where we are heading. And whichever way that is, we are a race well deserving of our end.

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