In Days I Dreamed Of Dragons

Winter Vibes – Atey Ghailian

I remember when I was younger that whenever I would be able to see the moisture on my breath it feel like I was blowing fire from my chest. “I am like a dragon” I always think proudly, braving the winter chill of childhood. “Nothing can stop me” I thought as the breath reminded me life inside burning brightly into the world. The world was full of these breaths and their wonder, every one could breath that fire from their chest, some stronger than others but all of us the same. I would savor the moments all wrapped up in jackets and jeans to test my breath to prove what a beast I was to be.

Those breaths changed as I got older, changing from a testament of invincibility to reminder of the thing I had to overcome. These breaths come more most notably on the road when running, sweat dripping down and freezing in the bitter wind. Those breaths represented a burning up inside of all the things I never knew but had to endure. A fighting spirit that persisted beyond the circumstances looking to burn my fate and the world along with it.

Now the breaths represent a small sense of solitude. I quiet moment in the night as I traverse hard concrete and quiet soil. It’s only my breath left, I feel it beneath my mask and skin. There out in the world it seems so empty, so lifeless, so void. I wonder, will there be others out there fight against the cold, looking for life out there in world or will breaths be the only one to refract those dimming lights. I once dreamed that we may have been dragons but sometime, just sometimes I feel that I am all that is left.

A lit wick and a slow burn

Slowly burn on a fuse that has been lit for a long time, these small but subtle moments that been eating away at me like rocks beneath the shore line. At some point I wonder if there will be a time where I will have no more fuse left to lay to keep the fire at bay, I have no time to check the lead the behind me, just enough time to lay it down and hope it keeps coming.

I’ve been feeling burned out by the world and work for a while. To be honest world and work might be one in the same. I’ve been searching for meaning in what I do because of it. Trying to find purpose in the waves of things I don’t really care about.

Though I am getting an education what I am left with is a particular set of skills I never wanted and a set of knowledge I had no desire to have. That might sound particularly silly and ungrateful but to be honest it’s more that it hasn’t met my expectations. Maybe it’s the pandemic and maybe it’s the classes but it makes me question what I’m doing and for what reasons I am doing it. I continue on in hopes that all of this will make sense but knowing I have give something up in myself to get anything out of it.

It feels sometimes like I’m a mouse in a cage running on wheel hoping to get somewhere, deluding myself into believing that every step I take is one that will bring me forward but in actuality all I am doing is retreading common ground. I wonder how I will look back on these moments in my life and think about them. Will they become a delightful serendipity or a bitter pill to swallow.

What I can say though is that I’m tired, I have been for a while. It’s the only thing I know I have been quite some time. Day and weeks blend together as I stare into the abyss and hope to find meaning. Hours lost, moment wanted. All I crave really is some type of substance to fulfill me and this releive me of this itch but for now I will just keep my head down and keep going. For now I will just concentrate on not getting burned.

Succinct

The Fall Woods – Me

I can be honest, writing has been hard these last few months, to the point where I had to leave the page unattended to feel free of the burden that comes with this regular exercise. I can blame all of this on the pandemic and the crappy year that 2020 has been but that would only reflect a small portion of the tumult my life has felt. I needed to take a step back, reevaluate my personal processes.

It’s been fruitful, being inconsistent with my writing. It has allowed me to realize that though I like to write a certain way there are always ways I can improve. That things can be made more understandable while still retaining my own flourishes. A need to cut down on the words but improve on the prose. That is what I here to do now, to write in a more compact way because I was allowing my brandishes to obfuscate my true aims.

This time has given me also the ability to contemplate how far I have come and how far I still need to go. I have realized and had to reassess my foundations and my beliefs because I am invariable drawn back my past as I fight for my future. For now I am writing to pledge once again to start this dance between statements and sentiments.

Tar And Feathered Words

The Wanderer by Dániel Taylor

I am always afraid that as I put words to a page that content of those words become meta. Words talking about words, language talking language, and yet I can’t divorce myself from these words. This language for me is as muck and tar, stretching and pulling me inexhaustibly to get stuck and dirtied. I fall back into them because of this apparent mismatch between me and them. Like an abusive relationship where I am betrayed over and over again by these things that I give my heart to only to fall back into their arms again.

It’s in a lot of ways the an inevitability as I am so scared of my own voice for it to ever learn to fly. So afraid of my words evaporating into entropy, crumbling into dust in those who they happen to reach. This why words become so focused, like a fetishism that my words are never allowed loftier dreams and goals as I just want them to work in the first place.

If only their were a tangibility to these abstract figures. To manipulate more fully with my hands aside from the language we have all agreed on. To put my mind down on paper, to transcribe these inner thoughts and feelings in a way that does justice to them.

The destruction of this fantasy is what spurs these regular meta commentaries about my inability to articulate in my everyday life. I keep telling myself to be more deliberate with my words, less is more and more is less but I spew them as a safety net as saying something always feels better than doing nothing. A fallacy I repeatedly find myself falling into, but trudging forward just the same.

I’ve already said too much so I shall leave it for now, but I am wise enough to know this is not the end but just another step on long journey.

The Climb

窒息(Asphyxia) –奈夫

It’s not easy, none of it is. It feels as though the whole process at times is a Sisyphean climb up a a steep mountain with no end in sight. How did I end up here, and where does this path lead? I unsure of how the roads will bend or how the ground will break beneath my feet but each step I take I recover bits and pieces of what I’ve lost along the way. Each piece giving me some semblance of strength to move forward. I carry, though, on my back, the memory of months which likes barbs upon the skin tore into my soul and left me bleeding. Am I different now that I have endured more tumult and turmoil, most definitely. Am I better person because of it, that has yet to be seen. We shall see if these expiences have shaped me to be stronger or simply made more able to avoid the dangerous of the dagger in my side.

I climb and climb, my calves burn each time my foot touches the ground. It’s a burning that I am used to but a burning just the same. I continue this climb because I continue to find reasons to keep moving forward. Reasons to persist when my body and mind what to desist and fall away into the sides of the mountain. I can’t stop here, I won’t stop here. Something always drives me forward up the mountain through all the pain and suffering, the heart ache and strife. I did not ask for this pain but when presented with a wall I choose to climb it despite the pain because then maybe I can help others do the same.

Energy sapped but still moving, motivaiton gone but still pushing. I might be at the end of my rope but I am still pushed down but I won’t let go no matter what.

Life is a continual process of working and pushing and I may not be the best at moving forward but I am at least persistent enough to stay in the game. Sometimes that’s is what you need to get somewhere, the ability to stick with it long enough.

Twisted Letters

Room – XilmO@夕末

I’m starting to think that only good writings which anyone may find of value are the words that mark my end. How poignant it would be, to write something so perfectly but knowing I would not be able to find the words to complete such a masterpiece. A cold balance between the practical, the apologetic, and the incomprehensible musings of an unfinished man. It is a poisonous twisting of letters and phrases that attempt to reconcile the irreconcilable and cast an act of selfishness as an act of self mercy. There are days where it becomes manageable that I don’t even think about these dangerously dark thoughts. Still, it feels as is if I am in eternally stumbling across ground with no debris with only needing but a spec of dust to send me falling through the earth.

It’s the fluctuations between okay days and terrible ones that makes me know the spindling hasn’t stopped. It brings me high to then send me low, making my morning filled with despair, afternoons feel manageable, and cause my nights to be sleepless. I carve moments away from everything, but they don’t last long enough as either the external or the internal constructs interrupt any semblance of meaningful peace.

My mind keeps going, running on fumes that have all been snuffed out. I consider what will happen when I find myself at the end of that rope, pulling hard to make sure there is nothing left for me or anyone else. An empty person, devoid of any merits other than existence. What then will I think of myself, will my true value be revealed if I hold onto nothing anymore. Will that value be low enough the pay for these costs of my sins and follies.

Part of me wants to get away from it all. All this clutter of my mind, or reduce it all to ash before my eyes, an outcry of the pain I feel inside. Maybe it would be better to lose everything. Start from nothing because it is less complicated than the life I am currently living. I know in some sick way I asked for this, asked for this type of life, and the trajectory that I am on, but I could have never anticipated the outcome. How can I have been so wrong for so long, and how do I rectify things. It’s effortful, these changes, these emotions, the things I hope to find and enact. Why is it that I always feel like I have to pour out so much to get anything in return, and even then, I do get something back. It’s never enough.

I’m in pain, and part of me prays that a hero would come and save me, but I have known for a long time that those types of things don’t happen. No hero will come to save me from myself and my twisted thoughts, and all there will be is silence over an indifferent universe. So that leaves me, but perhaps I am just too tired to stand up right now, but how can I heal I haven’t been much good at resting. For now, I will consider whether I want to or not, the words that may speak to many or few about what is worth saying at the end.

Dealing With Discordant Whispers

Better Days Will Come – Maryannemade

It’s the echo, that soft echo that we all hear which takes our thoughts, those ones we normally would not be heard over the cacophony of life, and begins to speak loud that our world has shrunk to the size of four walls and a ceiling. Initially, as soft as an almost inaudible whisper, so weak that only when the world is quiet that you begin to hear, but with time the voice starts to resonate and become the only thing you can hear. With so much going on in my own life, it has become a full-time job to deal with the onslaught of these whispers, these voices that would seek for me to burn with anger and outrage at my world, and destroy everything within it.

There is no illusion in my mind when I say that the past weeks of my life have been arduous. Beyond the calamity of the year, which seems in some way like a final recompense for building troubles we have simply put off, my struggles has made this year memorable in ways I would prefer they weren’t. There is no doubt about the eventuality of overcoming these difficulties, its’s the multiplicity of discordant events that have made the struggle forward so difficult.

Life change is an inevitability, and our reaction to that change determines the resulting outcome in our own life. It’s though a frustration that some of these discordant whispers come to speak in ways that would undermine this peaceful reaction. Phrases like “This is all your fault.”, “You deserve everything that has come to you.”, and “You will never be good enough.” weaken me as it is hard to refute the words that come from within. I can tell them to be quiet, but the more I attempt to avoid them, the more I find myself intertwined with these thoughts and feelings. Like a burning inside that feels like a constant powder keg explosion. This fuel of frustration is nothing new to me, but the circumstances do not allow for these feelings to dissipate easily the only way out now is through.

It’s in these moments that despair sets in, and a distorted sense of nihilism takes hold. A questioning of self, self-worth, and purpose takes hold. In the most extreme regards, it removes any desire to proceed further and replaces it with a desire to curl up in a ball and implode into nothingness. It strains me, this feeling, though thankfully not unfamiliar, allowing me to self actualize and take the necessary steps to recover before harm comes to me.

It was in this that I found the need to reflect on everything that was burning deep within my soul. A burning, mind you, that was not fuel but kindling that incinerates all that is good within my soul. I have found myself in a new land, and all it has done is stack wood waited for a flashpoint for all of this to go up in flames. It’s the internal I have to start with. Why do these emotions come over me, and what is their true purpose. Is this anger and hate simply pride or envy I feel. Is it because of my insecurities which these feelings arise? The flimsiness of stature allows me no sanctuary when the foundations of self are attacked.

This time is difficult in general without making enemies of self. It’s a need for calmness in lieu of apathy, understanding and compassion outside of circumstance. Being kind and knowing that these internal voices are fears harbored inside and not objective truths. The struggle will continue, but I am the one with the ability and the strength to change it. We will all get through this one way or another, we might as well do it the way I want rather than take the path of self-destruction.

The Amorphous Day

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Days and nights move through the sky as if they are both everything and nothing. Time itself may keep its count has become meaningless against the amorphous quarantine period. Dates fly by but hours take forever to pass, I am never sure where I should be or how I should feel through it all, but all I know is that muddle mixture of emotions have meaning even if the world seems to be falling apart around us.

It, in a way, reminds me of how time passes used to pass in videogames when I was younger. Days and night seemed to blend, and events and happenings would change depending on the sun, but the protagonists never cared whether it was day or night just that they were moving forward.

It’s been hard, I’ve sorted through my own troubles in this time we are all stuck inside. Needing to work through those moments and memories that I’ve hadn’t had time for. Work keeps me busy and stressed, though, at times, my body and mind fail me at the altar of the screen.  I think the answers to most of my questions is I don’t know, and maybe eventually.

It’s given me time to reflect more on what I see for myself in the future. The ways I want to go forward and be treated. What I should expect from the world and how I should go about pursuing it. It’s a quiet existence until I fill with thoughts and music.

It doesn’t help that I am tired all the time, though the occasional sun does help. I sit waiting for the world to pass me by moving forward slowly and surely until I can get enough done so that I can say that I am proud of myself and go to sleep.

I do appreciate all those voices I hear over the phone. Those sounds keep me sane when stuck at home away from it all.

I am fighting back, fighting back against all that craziness. I fight against the formless days and nights. Those thoughts of letting myself drift away into the abyss, hoping to return once this is all said and done. We must fight together, holding each other accountable and giving support so that when things are finished,and we can return, we know we still have the foundation of ourselves and our network to rely on.

I will keep this brief, as the day has taken a lot out of me. It may not be over, and the darkness still lingers, but we together can make this work. It’s who we say we want to be in this time that matters. How do I want to look back at myself and remember this time, stuck at home? Will I be the one who lost to the amorphous days or one who made something out of them.

A Dreamless Sleep

 

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Isolations – Felicia Chiao

 

The past few weeks I haven’t been able to write, at least not for this blog. Work, homework, work, global pandemic, and more work have kept me from being able to sit down and put words on the page, to spread my thoughts across digital space in any meaningful way.

So what has happened in the course of several weeks deep into a quarantine?

Me sitting at my dining room table, on my computer, having to act as if the world wasn’t falling apart. Seeing fewer and fewer people as the streets become barren, all except those people delivering those much-needed packages to our mandatory hermits. The quiet returning to the city as the people stay situated in their homes. A silent panic that is not communicated in case it may carry the disease along with it. I’ve been watching the world pass by from that chair, day and night as I slowly lose sleep over all the work I’ve been saddled with. Spending my days in a with my eyes burning with no dreams to be found.

I can’t avoid the reality of my situation, but in the same way, I also can’t fully process it. The world is happening but it doesn’t totally fee,l like anything is really moving. Like a world in stasis, waiting for someone to call out surprise, just kidding, it was all just a ruse. But it’s not, none of it is, it’s not some illusion that will be ripped away with time. No, this is real, the damages are real, the people are real, the hurt is real.

I’ve been sitting here, staring at this screen, counting the pixels as the clock strikes 4 and 5am, knowing I should be sleeping but knowing I just can’t. It’s these dreamless nights that I’ve been experiencing because I have not time for dreaming. Life is going too fast and too slow all at once. Nothing is moving but I am still drowning in the work and the things going on. Coming up for air whenever I can but swallowing water just the same. People are scared and for good reason. Not just for themselves but for their family. It hurts, just for me but the people I know, not able to hug or to mend, not able to console or to grieve. It’s not just breaking apart society, it’s breaking apart community and thats the hardest part.

We fight hard against these waves that will keep us away from one another. Soon enough it will all be just a piece, of history we will tell our children. But here I am, at home, for another day, wishing for the world outside, knowing always it can kill me, just a little bit more efficiently this time around.

 

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Shelter In Place – GroundedSpaceMan

It was some time ago, when listening to a podcast about the intricacies of emotion, I came to a deeper understanding of how about how the words shape the experience we have. The ability to describe how we feel goes a long way for how we treat these experiences and the process in how we cope with these experiences.

It’s then I have a word problem, an inability to describe how I feel simply. Maybe it’s because it’s a multitude of many things that are happening right, now but my feelings are stunted and unresolved because of my inability to put my finger on exactly what I am going through.

It mixture, a muddle of things to be honest. A sadness, an unease, an accomplishment, but also a sense nihilism. A confused sort of thing that comes together more like a grey cloud than anything clear cut. I don’t know what to do or what the right thing is, my body and brain are in incongruency trying to get a grip on myself as the world seems to be falling apart. It is then I had wished for the guise of routine to save me from the confusion only to be thrown to the lions, unrooted and left to hoist myself up the best I can.

For now, I used just a place holder of _______, a blank space that will have to do in the meantime as I have to continue moving forward. It doesn’t make the nights easier or the mornings shorter. What it does do is let me acknowledge it exists and to keep moving forward. I may not find the word, but I at least need to spend time healing.