I have embraced who I am. I move forward and see through people. See through the situation, ask uncomfortable questions, confront awkward situations. All of it has a meaning, a method... not done out of shear pain or emotion. Truth be told, i know what i am doing because i know who i am and what i cherish in life most. I am the realist, the fighter, the loyalist, i know my abilities in are in a paranormal realm at times. Something i have denied for so long because it's so hard to control what i am capable of.
I can see your torment. The daily shit that weighs you down. How you sweep it all under the rug with excuses of work and temporary ego stroking from a naive fan club to get you through the day. To feel loved in your empty word. You're infliction, your soul, your abilities, your truth, you ... i see it all. i feel it all. i have consumed you completely.
If you were to die today...what would people think? if every person you had intimate contact with came to your funeral and shared their stories, would they all the be the same story? the same songs that were sent? the same words? would they feel cheated, less special? perhaps at first cheated and then surprised that they were part of a mold, like on a conveyor belt in a factory. That special feeling fading fast with the realization that they were nothing unique. Just a Ibuprofen to sooth the pain temporarily...a band-aid. Would the collective think of you as less special or not coveted anymore, not what they thought. Would they think you spread yourself around disrespecting your core and throwing caution to the wild, knowing fully well the past will always catch up.
Is my story the only different one? Or am I like all the others that were sent the same songs? The one that stepped behind the curtain because you laid the cookie trail subconsciously. Knowing in your heart i would follow, i would be able to stand up for you, for your dignity, for the real man that waits for his best friends hand to pull him out of quick sand. The one that wasn't afraid to rock the boat, make things uncomfortable so that you could feel what was real again, what it means to live the life you only speak about.
What would people think? what would they respect you for right now at this minute. For your work? For your love of what? of who? Would they respect you for what you have done for them and to them? Or would they be saddened to know the truth?
You are not dead. You life has yet begun. The man that died while decomposing in truths tears was the one that you can no longer keep inside your body and mind. The toxic version of yourself needs to be laid to rest so that you may live as yourself in one unconflicted body with all your talents, passions, ambitions, love and devotion to the things what make you the most amazing person in the world. So when you do die at an old age amongst the ones you love most and those that love you most, they will have nothing but respect and admiration for how you have changed their life because you have changed yours.
Roll away your stone I'll roll away mine
Together we can see what we will find
Don't leave me alone at this time
For I am afraid of what I will discover inside
you told me that I would find a home
Within the fragile substance of my soul
And I have filled this void with things unreal
And all the while my character it steals
Darkness is a harsh term don't you think?
Yet it dominates the things I see
It seems that all my bridges have been burned
But you say, "That's exactly how this grace thing works"
It's not the long walk home that will change this heart
But the welcome I receive with every start
Darkness is a harsh term don't you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
Darkness is a harsh term don't you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
Stars hide your fires
For these here are my desires
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so I'll be found
With my stake stuck in the ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul
And you, you've gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine
-mumford and sons
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