My heart weeps. My physical body suffers. What is what is difficult to distinguish. But my body is whimpering in its sore transitions.Why the physical pain? Is it just my story that draws breath and comes to the surface for oxygen that it never pulled in, or the thought and the idea of the future watching gladly will attend to know. The idea of the grandeur and happiness hanging as a bait in the distance? Or is it just the warning light intuitively tapping into, to arouse each fiber in the so-called human body. Knowing that we pulsate, live and love. Awaken us from the destructive patterns, our habitual boring footsteps, which only allows itself repeating the same feigned, finished trail. Why this intolerable craving that draws me under the surface to the breaking point, and only lets me pull in microparticles of oxygen you otherwise have in your possession. Every molecule and atom groans in desperation.
Moving forward in lifes jungle when the pain threshold is raised to its highest. When sleepwalking becomes a full-fledged existence and determinations and decisions are as ascent of Mount Everest.
«I need you» a sentence I came in contact with after a fantastic documentary and dialogue afterwards. Echoing that gave my all I , resonance. Until now my journey sailing on the seas of coping, survival and self-discipline. A boat filled with my own production, freedom for my own stability and not lean too much either to the right or left. A relatively tight pose. Created by an illusion on a captivating thought about freedom in my own life. But the medallion which always has a back side is hard and brutal. Honesty is disguised in a belief in a collectivity. The femal form has gotten edges. My softness a rough surfaces. My openess one impenetrable lattice of steel.Let me dare to need,to lean on. Not break you, just lean gently until you feel the softness of my heart. So you see the writing on the wall, and can read my love. Love for life, everything in my excistence and everyone else’s.
Dare to stire everything up, everything that is mine. To fail, fail and pull myself up again,is the only way to salvation .
Try in the storm’s sleep, to seek comfort. Stretch forth my mind, my pride, my discomfort. Dare to ask for a hand, a life buoy, a chance at lifes rougher road. A hand or more to holf on to with the deepest of myself.Give from where I thought I only har accsess from. Maybe then my paths turns in to flower beds, with the non-homogeneous flora I have sown myself and can repa the allowance because I dared, and we are together.Not alone in a rigid self-created form, but the extravagance of soreness from history that is part but not all of me.Cohesion must create society and new breeding ground. Blindfold must yield. I must dare.