[11] Puzzled

Perhaps of recent days my focus has been solely for the needs of those around me and I've forgotten, in a sense, to listen to my own voice and adjust accordingly.

Confusion. Confused in the fact that my ideals have shifted significantly. Confused that I don't feel anyone understands or can provide answers, hence the need to jot down thoughts haphazardly like this. Feedback is minimal, however in a way, writing projects it all straight back at myself and challenges the ways in which I deal with it. Surprising more often than not.

So confused. [End]

[10] Fate

I suppose everything happens for a reason. I don't believe in fate, however I do believe that there is a purposeful action behind every movement. To wake us up. Inspire greatness. Find strength in places unknown.

Yes. Consequences are there to provide new insight. Challenge current ways of life, of living.

Rambles. Lots of vented rambles.
My thought box isn't too grande at expressing the non-cryptic; It seeks the mysterious, perplexing channels.

[9] Preservation

Preserve.
Is that not what sentimentality endorses – preservation?

The many black and white framed stills of movie clips I hang in precariously selected white space of wall, all for sentimental reasoning; to be reminded of what was.
To celebrate the unique quality of that specific point in time.

Everything. Anything. All that exists in the past exists in memory and what a precious facility to have that is.
Backlogged family events, past love - so distant, comfortably numb.

"There is no pain you are receding, A distant ships smoke on the horizon"

Yes I did just reference Pink Flloyd.
It seemed fitting.

Obviously I am no Heroin addict, however with a pun in place liberation is what I am...
...I am the Heroine of my very own story.