What a Spiritual Experience

After a brief moment of mild depression characterized by emotional detachment, a sense of emptiness and indifference with a strong absence of motivation, I had to face the daunting possibility that this emotional numbness can quite possibly be or lead to depression, something I would've never suspected. A little while after I noticed this, it still took some time for me to "snap out of it." Fortunately, this was in the early stages.

I put a conscious effort to be positive and found myself attracting new people with a strong spiritual presence and reuniting with some conscientious souls I'm grateful to know. The timing is undeniably meaningful for me. My aura is predominantly purple and it reveals that I have an unusual ability to manifest my desires, and recently it's proven to be true.

*I wasn't able to write this when I was first compelled to and while this presence of spiritual growth still burns inside of me, its evolved. I wish I was able to freely write then because I'm at a loss for words, but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it's a sign that the experiences are beginning to resonate within me. Spirituality is powerful and more real than our five senses, but it's intangible and even ambiguous at times. I feel like over explaining is out of sync to true spirituality.

I was recently speaking to a friend of mine who's perspective has expanded since our last encounter. He's very philosophical and inquisitive, but he wasn't always spiritually curious and now I see him making a conscious effort to connect to it the way I attempted to years ago. I believe he wants to believe but is unable to. However, in time, I'm confident he'll become more receptive as I became and come closer to what he's seeking. He approached the matter in the same way I did, the way he understands the world, logically. And just as I've realized, his subconscious is beginning to unfold a fact many spiritual souls already know, that you can't intellectualize something so profound and outside the realms of the brain. But it's not something you can explain or teach someone; it's an experience someone has to have.

It was great to see him because he was my neighbor and I went from seeing him regularly to remembering him when he updates his facebook. But hanging out with him wasn't an estranged experience at all. He's still my friend I know and remember but with new dimensions. And while I haven't felt like the new and confused student, I've been surrounded by people who are far more spiritually-evolved than I am and I often carry the mindset that I want to grow and evolve that spending time with him made me realize how much I actually have grown and evolved. I experienced a moment of quiet appreciation.

I gave a close friend advice and he asked me if I went to Moontribe, a spiritual gathering that I was unable to attend because he sensed a spiritual growth in me from the last time we talked which was no more than a week and a half ago. And I'm attracting more spiritual energy than I have before. I look forward to where it leads me.

Friendship Aborted!

If you're a racist, sexist, or homophobe, WE'RE NOT FRIENDS! If you've already revealed yourself to be any of these and I continue to maintain a civilized interaction with you it's because I've learned that as natural as it for me to experience anger towards you in an almost effortless sort of way, it's an exhausting energy I don't want to exert. You're just not worth it. As distasteful as your position is, you're an adult. Your belief is one you have a right to have. No matter how much I disapprove of it, that's undeniable.

When I was younger, I was a lot more intolerant, hot-tempered, and susceptibly confrontational. Those were undeniably leading factors but deep down inside, I thought maybe if I screamed violently enough, those imbecile thoughts of yours would burst and you might change as you gain new experiences. But since I'm older now and although people can go a lifetime without some of the most basic and fundamental of experiences, I've resorted to assuming that you've had time to make the most informed decision you'll allow yourself to make.

It's easier for me emotionally to accept this, too. I've got enough things to stress about in life. You're certainly not worth my energy. It's interesting how people don't realize they're wearing blinders. We perceive the world through our own understanding, our exposures and each person's is different. We're limited in what we can experience, so to believe that your life experience is enough to understand how things work is arrogant when it comes to something like this.

Now let me be frank, jokes about these things I have a tolerance for. Yes, I'm aware it's in poor taste and it's insensitive. Maybe it's because I can be callous, but I don't mind exchanging a few insults to gain some humor. I'm not always the classiest girl. What can I say? Maybe I cross the line, but I'm in a gray area. Since I'm not the one who gets hurt, I don't feel the pain and, more importantly, I understand that when it's a joke, it's a joke. Of course, not everyone will see it that way and that's something to consider. But my main concern is when you vehemently believe that it's justified and even acceptable to be a racist, sexist, or homophobe.

My position is inclusive to all three forms of discrimination, but what triggered this entry? A racist....former friend. There are cultural truths to certain stereotypes. I won't deny that. To recognize them is to be aware. I won't fault you for observational skills. But if you open your eyes wider, you'll discover that there are also inconsistencies and oppositions within those stereotypes, too, which is what makes being racist repugnant and unreliable.

Everyone is so different and unique. We may be connected to our upbringing and our culture, but we're also a separate entity from it, as well. Each person delivers a subliminally original vibration because of their individuality, unlike any other person. To dislike or hate a group of people over a generalized stereotype that's glued itself to certain races is a dangerous and tragic combination of ignorance and unintelligence. It's such a demonstration of how small minded you are because you only see one aspect and refuse to see anything else.

One day I went back to retrieve my water bottle but I was delirious from sleep deprivation and said I forgot my watermelon when, in fact, I forgot my water BOTTLE. There was no watermelon. The guy asks "are you black?" I'm not offended at this point. He says he hates watermelon and I'm shocked cuz I love watermelon and I share this with him. I guess it was one of those share moments, and he shares with me that he also hates black people, everyone single one of them and goes on a tangent about why they deserve his hatred. He goes on about how he abhors their ignorance as if he's absent of any, while simultaneously demonstrating to me an example of ignorance.

I'm left with this mixture of confusion, sadness, and anger. But before I elaborate on my reaction, I should probably backtrack to what he said so it makes sense to anyone who's reading this rant. He says that black people still bitch about slavery and want to get paid for suffering they didn't endure, it's greedy, selfish, unfair, stupid, and whiny. It's been fucking years. Quit your bitching! Nobody cares anymore. I hate every single one of them! As he's spewing all this, his girlfriend is looking at him both tenderly and sternly to stop. She knows what kind of man she got involved with and chooses to accept this side of him, but even she felt the need to silence him.

My mind was split. My heart was barely saddened by this outcome, as though maybe I already knew. The sadness barely sank in as my mind kicked in, rationalizing that he isn't worth any emotion. It's not tragic that he aborted our friendship; it'd be tragic if I never knew what kind of person he truly is. One side of me knew he wasn't worth investing a conversation with. Why engage in a futile battle? The other side wanted to react but was so bombarded with all this new information, it left me discordant. It took me a couple of days to gather thoughts the adolescent me would've instantly been able to address.

This is where my hesitation builds because this is such a sensitive subject and I don't want to offend anyone, but I also want to be honest about how I feel and give others an opportunity to make an informed decision about what they really feel about me. After reading this, some people may decide that they no longer want me as their friend. I hope that's not the case, but that's a choice they should be able to make. So I'll proceed in my thought.....

There are no words to describe how horrible it was for blacks to suffer slavery, and unfortunately it took much longer than it should have for people to come to this gripping reality. Those who lived a life of slavery weren't compensated for it. Not that any form of payment would justify or neutralize the cruelty, but no attempt could be made as many of them were deceased by the time equality kicked in. A true tragedy but to ask financial compensation for your ancestors suffering is albeit disconnected or at least that's the way I feel.

When a victim is injured from a car accident, do your spouse and offspring get compensated or do you, the injured victim, get compensated? That's the perspective I carry. But everyone's position is different and you're entitled to believe and desire whatever you want. Consider it to be in bad taste that SOME blacks want to be paid for their ancestors suffering. But what about the ones who don't feel that way? If you hate black people for a specific belief system that not every black person feels, why compartmentalize that every black person believes this? Do you really believe no black person disagrees? Where's the logic in that?

You can't be selective in your conclusion? Is it too much effort to sift through differing opinions? Obviously. And that's where his stupidity takes over the stage. Quite a bit of black people have expressed a desire for compensation and many of them live in the U.S. Of course, that isn't to say that Africans around the world can't carry that opinion, too, but this guy just goes on and on about this profiled type of blacks, as if there aren't other types of Africans around the world far beyond the scope of what he can imagine. To him, they all want a hand out, are ghetto, and uneducated.There are Africans in third world countries who have little to nothing to survive on and live self-sufficiently without expecting any assistance. Some of them never leave their home country and know multiple languages. He only knows what he observes and what he chooses to keep his eyes glued to.

After the burdensome process of being offended by his ignorance and callousness, I'm left saddened and in a twisted way morbidly curious of his resilience against open-mindedness. This guy demonstrated unintelligence, but he's actually rather smart, quick-minded, and educated. He can think expansively. If I carried his belief and thought all black people were idiots and saw how many blacks there are, I would've become desperate to find the ones that are intelligent because I don't want to think that they're all horrible. Wouldn't it be better if they were good people?

I'm sure I veered off in a selfishly discombobulated way, but it really makes wonder how people can be okay with being so hateful. It's a conflicting, violent feeling. It's unpleasant and negative. It has adverse effects. Why would you be content in that state of mind?

This actually means more to me than I'm willing to express. I don't feel that my black friends need to be defended for their beauty, maturity, success, intelligence, creativity, and all the other amazing qualities they possess because to me this isn't an argument I feel I have to win. This is just me processing all of this. But it was hurtful to me and not because I grew up in San Francisco and we're unbelievably tolerant or that so many of my friends are black, along with every other race you can think of. More importantly, my mother's white and my brother's white and black. They saved me when they adopted me. For anyone to hate them without knowing them is more of a loss for you than it ever will be for them. But it still stings.

Everything is Going to be Okay

*This is an old entry I forgot to post.

When you feel beaten and unwanted, it's hard to believe that everything's going to be okay. When I saw how pulverized someone is and I hear them say those words, I just thought they said it cuz they needed to believe it, as if telling themselves that made the pain any less severe. Now that I'm going through it, I realized that the sting burns just as sharply no matter what you tell yourself. So what reason would anyone have to lie to themselves? You're already exposed and vulnerable. Lying to yourself won't change any of that. So maybe just maybe it actually is going to, in fact, be okay and that light at the end of the tunnel isn't an illusion. Someday, probably not as soon as I'd like it to be, I'll be a part of that light and everything is going to be okay.

The Smallest of Things Can Trigger Our Greatest Fears

It's going to be my birthday this month. The new year just began. Valentine's day passed. And now my birthday's coming up. Each are Holidays that make people think of the future and reflect on our lives. I don't usually give attention to days people associate with significance but I spent the Holidays in my hometown, so I was exposed to an undeniable contrast between my old life and my new one. I've conditioned my friends to remember my birthday is 6 days after Valentine's, so it's closely associated to change. Not to mention since I'm single and 27, my mother can't resist criticizing my waning youth that's apparently being suffocated by enlarged pores. Even my father's joined in on the condescending territory my mother has more than adequately fulfilled by beginning and ending sentences with "you're not getting an younger." I understand how time works. Thank you.

I've thought about how much I've changed, how many people are still in my life, and which ones matter the most to me. I don't often worry about being able to maintain the friendships I've developed with local friends because I'm more connected to them. I see them regularly. I feel like if the friendship begins to slip away, I sense it and can work towards tethering to it or let it go because it's the right thing to do. My newer friends are also my adult friends. Life takes over and we lose touch, but we reconnect. That's our friendship works. But it's different with friends from my hometown.

I knew them since I was a teenager. I hang on to them more because while I want them to change, encourage them to, and even assist them with it, I don't want those changes to occur without my presence because I fear I won't recognize them. What if we drift away? By presence I don't mean physically. I just don't want to wake up one day and feel that they're nothing more than strangers. It's interesting that the things I fear are usually the things I should worry the least about and yet they matter the most to me, so I fret. When these friends change, even slightly, I'll feel it and it immediately brings me to a state of panic and desperate reassurance I impose on myself.

It's nearing a decade since I've left my hometown and I still talk to my friends from there regularly. I feel like we've survived the test of time, but the thing about time is that it's always moving forward. It never stops. What if one day we fail the test of time? That's my fear.

I should celebrate the growing years we've managed to stay friends, but instead it feeds my insecurity that we're coming closer to the demise of our friendships. We know each other so well that sometimes we send the most random and seemingly meaningless texts for each other. Other times we'll talk for six hours. So when I found that a close friend of mine was going out with another friend instead of talking to me for countless hours, the pang of being replaced took over. I never told him because these feelings are pathetic and embarrassing to have as it is. And I can understand why people think my feelings for him are more than platonic and I'm tired of repeating myself, but I'll do it in writing. I don't like him; sadly I'm just that insecure.

There are a few close people in my life I feel this way about, but I'm fond of certain systems and ours was being drastically altered from what I've become accustomed to. It's not just him. I have another friend who I texted if he's still alive cuz I felt like he's been MIA and I asked him if I'm just paranoid. He admitted that he's been preoccupied but I realized it was only two days that we hadn't communicated. Two days! Who the fuck trips off of two freaking days? And I swear I'm not usually obsessive like this, only when I worry that our friendship is compromised and I'm not used to these ordinary changes.

And my birthday rolling around made me think about where they'd be 10 years from now. But the truth is I have to stop worrying because we'll find out eventually. And no matter how much I fear and resist, what's going to happen will happen with or without my consent. I can't waste my time stressing when I could be living because our time here is indefinite and can be more brief than we think it'll be. So it's time to celebrate!

Trying to Snap the Uninspiration Out of Me

I know "uninspiration" isn't a real word but it's a real feeling. Writing has always come naturally from me. But lately I've been feeling dangerously unmotivated and a ton of other adjectives I resisted from posting on fb, not out of discretion but out of my own fear that these feelings I wish didn' exist would become more real. Then I realized that these feelings that are leading to a sense of indifference in my own life are more real than what can be seen or touched; it's becoming a part of me and I want to change that. So I thought it best to just start writing even if I have no major epiphany or deep insight to offer.

In the back of my mind I'm aware that people are reading this or I hope so, and that affects my writing but I stopped doing it for an audience a long time ago but the bad habits that restricted me still linger. They just manifest during different moments of struggles. I used to hesitate writing when I felt that it wasn't good enough for the readers, not because your time was important to me but because I couldn't stand the idea of someone hating my entry. Now I don't give a fuck!

And that's great because I write for myself now. But when I don't consciously feel like I have nothing of value to express, write, or read myself, I forfeit the attempt altogether and that's detrimental to my self-growth because our subconscious minds understand far more than our conscious minds. So I shouldn't be afraid to write just because I feel I have nothing to say. How much information am I holding back from myself? This place is my sanctuary. I shouldn't only visit it when I'm on the run. What a symptom management oriented approach.

Imbalance has always been a struggle of mine, but I didn't become aware of it until recently. I used to be overfilled with poison and my body was so polluted in this state that I never knew what it was to be free of it. So I never recognized the damages. When something becomes a part of you, even if it's something horrible, trying to separate from it is one of the most painful experiences you can ever go through. I was bludgeoned and beaten. Because so much of me was infused in this poison, a part of me was extracted during the separation process. So I had to rebuild a new me. I wish it wouldn't have taken such an extreme and necessary force to snap me out of it, but I'm grateful for the results and who it shaped me into.

Once I recognized the damage it was doing to me, my body naturally tried to expel and reject the poison surrounding me. I've gotten receptive to keeping those things at a distance but what I failed to realize is that now I'm an empty vessel. I'm no longer filled with poison, but I have to be filled with something. I should be nourished, but I'm not used to feeding myself anything. I'm used to crap just being crammed into me that I have left myself spiritually malnourished and that's why I've been feeling uninspired and indifferent. I have to be filled with something whether it's negative or positive. An absence of either is still a form of imbalance. Negativity inspired me to not be the failure I was suspected to become. Without such discouragement to fight against, I became blind to the fact that I was failing myself.

As I found myself becoming dangerously unmotivated about the fact that I have no job and could get evicted if I can't make rent and slowly digressing into a state of indifference about it, I started becoming detached. I memorize phone numbers. I don't rely on my cell phone to be my memory, but I forgot so many of my friends phone numbers and it's not because I'm becoming 27 in 7 days that in the past month I began forgetting phone numbers I've known for well over at least six months, if not years. It's because I began detaching in general with myself, the people around me, and with reality.

I've been going to sleep early. I'm tired throughout the day. I'm unmotivated. I'm losing touch with people. My diet isn't what it was. I'm stagnant. I'm beginning to develop the symptoms that constitute depression. Don't get me wrong. I don't think I'm depressed, but it's frightening to think that I'm not too sure how I feel because feelings are starting to become absent in me and these symptoms are so close to what depressed people do experience.

But here's something new. Throughout all of this indifference as the lack of employment is about ready to swallow my life hole and shit out nothing but crap, the only thing that's managed to make me feel anything is empathy. When my friends got sick. When my friend started developing breathing difficulties. When my friend expressed sadness about Valentine's coming up. When a friend I hadn't spoken to in a while confided in me that she's been seeing a counselor and battling depression, that's when it hit me.

It was at that moment I realized I'm not far from that path but without having talking to her, I may not have known because I've been so emotionally detached until it was too late. People, even new people in my life, just naturally open up to me and sometimes it trips them out that they do and feel they can share so much with me and I love it. I realized that when I help others, I help myself. Altruism.

Not having a job. Being bored. Uninspired to write, the one constant in my life that I felt I needed and without it, I believed I'd fall apart. Feeling helpless. Feeling unwanted and worthless in society. Forgotten. At the brink of losing my apartment and losing all of my beautiful pretty things. The freedom I've come to enjoy and recently acquired was at risk of being snatched away from me and all of this left me apathetic. I've been homeless before. I know how difficult it is to not have a roof over my head, so it isn't like I'm just not properly frightened that's keeping me from caring. And yet what made my heart turn was another person in pain.

Small but significant moments like these have been making me feel like lately I've been wanting to go into an altruistic field. I've contemplated counseling but also something more expansive like a charity organization. I want to be part of the team that makes the changes happen. I don't want to just push the paperwork. I have to know and see that my actions, whatever they are, are helping people in need. I want to talk directly with people who are struggling and both feel and see their progress. I have to sense and know that my contributions are making a difference. With some things, I need more than faith; I need evidence.

I'm not sure what this means but I plan to find out. This isn't at all the entry I had in mind. I've had some powerful experiences. I missed one job fair, so I went to a recent one that was pretty incredible. It gave me hope and left me with some sense of wisdom I wanted to express, but that moment has passed. While the experience resonates in me, I'm no longer compelled to express it the way I desired when it first happened.

It's tragic but I have to accept that moments pass, one of the most difficult realities to grasp in life. Lately I've been wondering what I'd do with my life if I didn't want to write as though I'd have to find the answer to that question, but I've been too afraid to face it. Now with each growing day of indifference and the only thing that's able to spark me is empathy, I think I need to stop feeling selfish for wanting to help people cuz it helps me and just be a part of the conducive process.

I can no longer be the way I am now. I feel like I failed my friends. One friend who always came to me when he struggled said he doesn't want to burden me with his problems because he knows what sadness does to me. It wasn't always that way because I wasn't always that way. And I know he's struggling. He knows I'll sense it from him, so he's staying away. I don't want that from my friends. I can understand why he does that, but it's also hurtful to feel like he wants to detach himself from me. That's not what friendship is about. Well it is from his perspective and I'd do the exact same thing if I were in his situation, but I'm in my mine and this is how I feel.

The scary thing about being indifferent and detached is that I don't know what's going on or that this is even happening. I'm at risk of becoming who I was before and I don't want that. I still feel like premonitions plague me, but it's also a sign that I'm connected, connected to myself, connected to the universe, connected to my friends, connected to feelings, connected to what makes me human. I didn't even realize it was missing and I channeled the very little emotional energy I did have on worrying about my friends who were visibly in trouble, but the ones that really need help are the ones who are silently suffering and that's what I became blind to.

They're the ones who are lost like I am and often times unaware of what they're going through. They never ask for help. You have to be one of them to recognize them. Blind leading the blind is often mocked and trashed, but the ones who know where they are don't know where to find where the lost people are, nor will they recognize them. So many of us put on fake smiles, go out into the world appearing not at a lost or confused and severely struggling the way we are, and people buy into our ability to put our problems behind curtains. When I lose myself, I lose the ability to help others.

As it turns out, writing is a smaller priority than part of me wishes it were. I wanted to become a writer when I was a child because I wanted to be heard. I thought it was the only way people would pay attention to me. Then as I became older I wanted to become a writer, so I wouldn't be forgotten. I didn't want children. That was sincere then. I feared that without a legacy I'd be erased from history and I thought having my name printed would be my mark in the world, but that was the detached me talking. Now I realize that to truly be remembered, you have to make an impact in peoples' lives. Authors are forgotten all the time. A record isn't a memory. I want to be remembered and with significance. I believe I will be because I can feel what I have done for my friends, and it isn't always through my writing. I want to be remembered and I'm realizing that being a writer isn't the best way to achieve that. Plus I wanted to become a journalist to help people. Then when I lost my desire to become a journalist but clung onto writing, I've been sort of aimlessly floating.

I can't continue to deny how I feel or . I wanted to be a writer and maybe I still can be, but that only appeals to a smaller side of me as I continue to grow and evolve. My self growth and embracing who I am has led me to my premonitions. It leaves me more connected to others than some. I have a friend who I should've never lost touch with. It wasn't too long but long enough. As my indifference was building in me and my intuition was suffocating, it manifested itself as a voice in my head taking on a friend's voice asking me to check up on my boy and I ignored it/me with the rationalization that I'm worried about friends who are really struggling like with breathing. As it turns out, I should've listened because he's been sick and as I'm returning to my intuitively receptive state I keep getting this, "How long have you been out of sync?"

If blind leading the blind is beneficial because it's having a mirroring effect, it's a two way street. How long have I been out of sync? Long enough that I wasn't able to see my friend's downfall. And I don't like feeling like I failed them. It's not my responsibility to keep them from falling, but it's also not my desire to lose myself as my friends struggle. I wanted to write because that was my way of wanting to give back. The detached me was more than satisfied to give back to society, but as I became a more intimate person, I want to give back in a more personal way.

The truth is that writing isn't as satisfying to me as it once was, although this is very therapeutic. What led me to finally do this was that when I realized I'm in emotional trouble, too, I instinctively looked up ways to combat depression naturally through food, vitamins, and exercises, the healthier way to combat depression and what my friend prefers. I wanted to compile a list of choices she can reference at her own time, when she's receptive to it rather than to heal myself. My priorities and habits definitely have to change, but I'm beginning to realize what my desires are, to help people.

I also want to end this by thanking a long time friend of mine who surprised me with an encouraging email. We don't keep in touch as much as I'd like, but every so often he checks up on me and his timing couldn't even be better. And the advice you gave me, you were right. I mean look at this never ending entry. I'm at a friend's place and he asked if I'm writing a novel. LOL! But seriously thank you!

So Many Unfinished Entries Reflecting My Life

In the past which is so not a part of my present so maybe I shouldn't be even feeding it any energy by addressing it now, but if I'm thinking all this, then it's on my mind. Better to release the thoughts here than let those thoughts knock around with every other thing I cram into my over crowded mind. Back to the original sentence: In the past I've been successful at beginning an entry, going in depth, and completing my thoughts. Now it seems that I begin an entry only for it to go unposted because it's unfinished. I wonder how symbolic it is of my life right now. I feel like I start something and am unable to complete it and go on to something else. It's bothering me but that's what I'm drawn to do. I feel like I'm unemployed and should take advantage of this time to find myself, so I've been panicky cuz I want to try all these different things with unfinished tasks at hand. But maybe that's what I need, to explore. So I'm going to paint my place by myself even though I'm convinced it'll be a disaster because every attempt to get assistance seems to fall through. Maybe I'll do a good job. And if I don't, I'm sure there's a lesson to be learned. My property manager also gave me permission to start my own container garden collection, which I'm excited about. And I'm hoping a friend will let me borrow his violin so I can practice. I also began practicing dowsing. Probably the most exciting thing for me right now is that I'm planning to start my own writing group because people are unbelievably discriminating. They post ads for a writing group only to put me through preliminary interview processes, writing samples, pick at what I read only to reject me for reasons including I don't have a doctrate or a Master's. Really? Who are you to look down on me cowardly through email? I suppose such constraints and bigotry can serve a function for that kind of group. But frankly considering the stifling impression I got, I'm not interested in such groups or the energy I suspect they possess. So I decided to create my own group.

*The beginning of this entry addresses that I've been starting projects and am unable to complete them. Well some time has passed but I've been going through my unposted entries and I'm going to post this as it has been written, incomplete and true to its feelings when I first wrote it.

My First Entry and My First Inspired Entry of the 2011, Baby!

I had an amazing talk with a friend of mine this morning. After only my second day of giving up on my 7 am morning workout, I was laying in bed all lazy until I got an unexpected call from that really good friend who knows you really well and understands you because he's just as disturbed as you but is impossible to get a hold of. I guess he got a cell for Christmas? So he just gave me a call to give me his new number and we got to start talking about life.

When I think about it, I'm still amazed by how our friendship began. No matter how crappy my life gets, it's situations like these that remind me that there's a higher power. People are brought into our lives for a reason. We have a really altruistic friendship and it never fails that we come together whenever it's beneficial for us in our lives. I must admit that I'm proud of our progress. Two super detached people matriculating into the emotional human beings we're meant to be after years of our stubbornness wearing down and delayed wisdom finally sledgehammering into our pigheadedness to make us realize that it's good to be flawed, broken, emotional, and all the other things that make us human.

His biggest flaw is procrastination. The things he can overcome and achieve if only he can eradicate that virus that paralyzes him. It's a problem the same way my insecurities are. Even the greatest failures I can experience if only I dared to take a chance would be a greater success than what I allow my insecurities to shelter me from. It took me years to realize this because it's difficult for me to see the bigger picture, so it took years of unfavorable approaches to life before I knew there was anything wrong.

Now that I'm aware of it, I want to break the habits that infuse my insecurities and tangle up my dreams. I've been feeling that way for a while but today I realized that I have to expand my perception to do that. I don't want to waste any more years! So here's to old experiences seasoning my soul and channeling my energy towards a spiritually conducive next year and the following years to come!