Coming Back

4/9/12 - "If happiness is the sunlight, and sadness the rain that falls, my life is a constant rainbow. The colors of the rainbow may fade, but they will always remain colors. Live your life without fear of the storm clouds. Because even though it can become cold, dark, lonely and painful; there is always the promise for the beautiful colors of the rainbow."

4/10/12 - "The question is not 'are you the one for me?'; but rather 'how much longer until you're mine?'"

I haven't written in a very, very long time. It's funny...I've been telling myself and everyone else that I haven't been inspired to write, but really I've been too afraid of the pain that comes from gong any deeper into my memories. It's like I've put a wall up for my own self, so that I can't see any further than my face. But, no matter how thick that wall becomes, sooner or later the mortar will weaken, and I'll have to start all over again. Usually it weakens the most when I become real with myself, and when I'm willing to let all of my distractions go to the wayside and really listen. Listen to God, listen to my closest friends, and listen to my heart. The tidbits that I wrote above were forced. To be honest, I have been completely avoiding writing. But, while talking to my best friend the other night, I just let go. I was completely open and vulnerable. But, being the amazing man that he is, he didn't take advantage. He helped me. It might not have been what I wanted at the time, since he was actually making me promise that I would do the very thing that I was avoiding. But, I did it...and I didn't feel any better. I talked to him the next day, and he asked if I wrote anything. I told him no, and then before I went to bed, I wrote the second quote...pink eye and all. I still didn't feel better...not until now, when I am able to just write. I can only see out of one eye (the worst prescription out of the two), and am super contagious, but I am doing it. I don't care how resistant I am to it, I need to write. It is my escape...my fantasy world. It doesn't matter if I am writing about my own experiences or what I wish those experiences were, it takes me to another level. The real hurdle isn't the writing part...it's writing about the stuff that I started writing about.
I've accepted that I grew up in a cult. But I haven't fully faced the pain that I've experienced and the lies that I've been told. That is what I am struggling with. I can't write poetically about that. I can't sugar coat it, or make it better. I just have to accept that it's hard, and write it that way.