Flowers

I feel so quiet, as if something marvelous or gruesome could happen before my eyes and I would feel nothing emotionally. I stare at nature, and I cannot be awed.

        I think of secrets that I keep, and no longer feel the need to keep them hidden, nor do I feel the need to speak them to others. People will only get caught up in what they think of things and judgements of character. Why need they know more than that I am human like they are, and to be content with this.

        Anger is a useless emotion; and happiness is too short-lived. Yet I want to feel emotional, and full of life, passion, and color, but, I cannot find it. It is just that I feel....nothing.

Nothing but the NEED to write this all down, which is strange for me. I feel the expectations of others and confusion over when I do not feel them, nor feel the need to meet these expectations. I am merely a robot controlled by some other, sharper, more intuitive being or entity. Yet, I am fine. I scribble faster and faster, hoping that this shall go on....

Yet steady still time ticks down, and I know that all things must end. And here I break; my lack of emotion is replaced with energy, and a pinch of fear. Buy why should I fear? I feel a tiny shred of fear that I may run out of words or time to say what  I must say. It is a silly feeling, I know I should not fear.

But I also fear, for I know that my current state shall fade and i will drift back to my normal self, and to the normal expectations of others to impose upon me. It is so strange, that I feel the judgement of others, and yet I truly think no judgement of others. I feel that I am rather open-minded and tolerant of others, to a varied extent.

I am feeling stronger than I had felt earlier. Instead of confusion and a sense of being lost, I now feel more of a purpose. I'm still not completely sure what my purpose is, but I feel that it is closely related to recording feelings on this (and other) page(s).

I am desperately torn between pleasure and duty. I know that I must complete my obligations of my duties, yet I am also somewhat obligated by love.

Steady yet, still I write, scribbling as fast as I can on the page, concentrating hard on creating words, sentences, and proper spelling and grammar. This is as freeing to me as sitting in darkness, as satisfying as stretching out my muscles. Ohh...how I have missed this! How I have missed to intensity, the furious scribble on the page, the smell of ink, and the scratch of the pen on the page.

There's no need to apologize. Everyone has their collections of reasons, I'm sure, wether they are good, or malicious. I too have done things for good or harm of others. I know the release one feels from rules when one breaks them, and I have felt the wholesome sensation of being loved. I am the only one who needs to apologize, for my neglectfulness and lack of focus.

How am I doing, you ask? And I say, "Good." Simply one word. One word, for all the pages I had wrote today, all summed up in one word, one thoroughly false word. But you asked me how I was doing for polite, light conversation, not to have me burden you with unnecessary worry or thoughts. I know better than to believe you actually wanted a true answer.

Boudin. Such a pleasant place. The people here appear so kind and carefree, so fitting an atmosphere for here on the patio, such a carefree place to write such heavy, heavy feelings. The trees here are smiling with rosy pink cheeks. So happy and pretty are they, that it distracts me from feeling morbid and empty. Instead, mere content steals over me.

I often think how beautiful and organically wholesome it is. The other day I was so moved by a simple patch of flowers that I burst into tears, and only just managed to compose myself in time. I wanted to roll in the flowers and run my hands through the soft wild grass. I desperately desired to laugh and dance and smell the small, delicate flowers. All of this, brought on by glimpsing a patch of little purple and red flowers beside the desolate highway in the afternoon light. I felt I could have fainted in ecstasy at how breathtaking I thought them to be.