Phoenixa

Am I low?

Do I feel rejected?

Do I feel betrayed?

Do I feel like the worst has happened and it couldn’t have happened at a more crucial time?

Probably.

How often I ask these questions is a number I’ve forgotten. Of late, it feels like the jar of stuffed questions suddenly has filled, has come crashing down just to bury me.

To keep me down.

When you’re hit with something like that, getting up from it takes time.

It takes time for your head to reel from the shock of events. Who would have ever thought this would happen now? Everything seemed great, and that one moment, that one unthought out moment threw my world into a vortex of pain and submission.

I had nothing to say to anybody.

Nothing to say to myself.

Nothing to feel.

I needed time. I needed to heal. I needed to be reassured. I needed to hear things I didn’t want to hear.

Yet, nothing broke my will to be myself except time.

…
…
…
…

I woke up one day feeling more positive. I wanted to go back to my dark corner, but I realized there’s no one funnelling me into my lonesome place except me. What’s done is done. I needed to use this energy, whatever kind it was, to rise.

To realize.

To reinvent myself.

To release myself.

To tame the flames.

I will not burn. No matter how long someone keeps me in the fire, I will not burn.

I fall, I revive.

That is what a Phoenix does, and that is what I will be.

^^

Not A Good Feeling

I’ve been having lucid, frightening dreams.

I’ve been having dreams where the scenario is so familiar , so comfortable, yet so terrorizing.

My dreams have shown me that my comfort zone can be torn apart if I lingered around too long.

During a road-trip sorts, I fell asleep in the backseat of the car.

I was dreaming of driving without holding the steering.

The car glided straight, no bumps, not on cruise control.

It just went while I dozed off.

I suddenly felt the car veering.

The smoothness contorted to jagged.

I tried to wake myself up.

I was panicking.

My mind tried to move my body.

It tried to convince my limp self to hold the steering wheel but my limbs lay numb.

They lay paralyzed.

It was not pleasant.

I knew in a few seconds there’d be a terrible outcome but trying to move myself with my mind wasn’t working.

I was trapped in my dream.

Just as the pain of helplessness washed over me – my car jolted over a speed bump waking me up.

My heart beat heavily, my muscles were stiff whilst my head rested on my mom’s lap.

Being trapped in your own dream is not a good feeling.

Purple Insanity

Am I starting to tilt toward an unhealthy liking for purple?

Maybe.

Am I whiling away my time instead of doing something productive?

Maybe.

Am I doing everything wrong but fail to see it?

Probably.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but then again I could be doing everything right and have no idea that I’m not doing it wrong.

Are my disorderly thoughts manifesting into agonizing clutter? Is my clutter the beginning of my insanity?

Are my doodles just lines on a white background or are my glitches leaking through the cracks and into the smiles of my drawings?

Will I find my purpose down the road or is the bland scenery on the barren highway a sign of never ending inertness?

 Have I already been here or am I on a sick pandemonium merry-go-round?

 If you find me, take me home.