I am frightened. I am scared. White as a ghost with fear. I pretend to know, but the truth is, I don't know squat. I have been going to the wrong school, learning the wrong stuff. I have learned about war, not peace. About hate, not love. I have made myself hard, not soft. Closed, not open. Poor, not wealthy.
I am beginning to listen to the voice of my own conscience, my own truth. Though it is patient, it is also brutally honest. I throw tantrums, like a two-year old, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to. Hear it. I need to be emptied, so to start anew. I must learn how to live, come back from the walking dead.
Wish me luck.
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This week I rested from writing. Last weekend I wrote like a demon and it was exhausting. Soon I will start again. Thanks for checking in, my preciousnesses. Ta ta.
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About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
1 comment:
i like this piece alot. i find it very real and inspiring!
gracias,
gida
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