Journal Entry: Tue Apr 30, 2013, 4:59 AM
I have been telling people that I am 30 since the turn of 2013; the truth is I am 29 years old for another 6 months. I remembered that the other day and it was a cool splash on my brain cells.
I don't love being alive; I am alive. I love to laugh, and to read and to write. I love my sisters and my niece. I love walking barefoot, and I love swimming. Love is an emotion I feel and embrace and protect; life is my state of being.
I invite change; I expect it, and I work on it. I believe in personal evolution. However, it angers me so when somebody pushes me in a direction they have chosen. I like to keep my own pace; I like to choose my own path. Yet, sometimes I have to ignore the anger and go with the flow. How can I ever be sure that my pace and my path will get me where I need to be?
There are some things about me that will never change; expecting them to would cause disappointment for all parties involved.
I need to rewrite my personal dictionary. It is a fearful task; yet my current one isn't enough to explain who I am now. The shift in the present forces me to reconsider my future.
The online lives we pursue make us overlook how conceited it is for us to choose our own nicknames. How many of us are truly familiar with themselves? How many of us look into the mirror with honest eyes?
I have always thought love couldn't blossom without total understanding. I was wrong; love has nothing to do with conclusions. Love is about the wish, and the will, and the energy. It is about the time you spare to understand each other. It is about perseverance and tolerance. I was right about one thing though; love doesn't have to be bloody. It is possible to feel passion without ripping each other apart; trust me on this.
The phone rings and I say "I am writing." It is not a poem, nor a story. It is not a journal, either. I am writing a users' manual for Jack. For you to use Jack, for Jack to use time, for me to draw maps.