Epitome

(A personal narrative)

I look into the mirror and doll myself up to find that I'm in the prime of my life. I look forward to the attractive encounters I come across along the road of my journey because they are my sunlight. I cant even begin to explain the times I feel in love with only one thing about someone, or under a velvet sky, threw my hands up and believed this was the best time ever, or made a wish on a crashing car. My heart sparkles and breaks. My eyes pierce and hear. The rhythm in my walk silences & speaks. It takes letting go of "what could be" for the risk of obtaining something greater, the "what is." It's not about proving there is a reason, it's about believing that there is one.
 

My soul is a giver and my heart is a receiver, I listen to my sight before I say "forever". When people criticize my line of action, I cant help but want to explain but it's ridiculously inhumane to explain your logic to people who seek: houses, the comfort of routine, success through monetary value.They have no idea what it's like to rely on the approval of your own thoughts, the words of a lover or a kind acquaintance & to seem obsessed and for "home" to be wherever you are, you. They call it "over analytical" but they're underestimating.
 

I was always distant of those living in the shallow because I looked at everything into depth. I crave the twisted and the comfort of the unfamiliar all for an inner melody that plays for the spirit that dances to it. Id have a mouth full of fear & lies if I ever said I wasn't ok with my past and that i just wanted to stay here with you. The need to never stop wandering doesn't allow me to speak of such things. Right now, I consider it the prime of my life because in the past, I have always been someones girlfriend, someones love, someones heart break, but all I simply wanted to do is, entertain. I've always wanted the world and was given the moon- every day is birth and I remind myself of a graceful vision for every encounter, so that i can learn and teach.

Under a sheet of stars I reminisce of us, dancing, laughing and even fighting. I remember everything you told me, and how you made me feel. I remember how you said you knew but you didn't and how much I craved spiritual freedom and that wasn't even half of it. I wont go back but those memories feed me, and give me real hope for true love. I love to sing and help create melodies. I sketch clothing on bodies that stir up controversy. I let my fingertips bleed on a notepad inside of my laptop. I observe others to stay in tune with my soul. I remember at one point in my life, arguably, all I ever imagined was becoming a writer but I've wished upon a full moon to many times that epitomizes indecisiveness.

The obsession I have for connecting with your soul terrifies me into a demanding passion and a demanding expression from you because you run your fingers thru the tangles of my soul.


I want to dance for strangers and find someone stranger.
 

My obsession pushes me to a sense of nomadic unconventional-ism that both drives and delivers me.

 Even though, I go to sleep in a city of angels, I wake up in the city of dreams. 


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