Find Never Land

24 Aug

Time is an illusion and Never Land is a place far away that some people have traveled to and many strive to go to. You would think that it’s packed with people cruising around the illusion and the dream but unfortunately only true purple people get to go. There are no short cuts to get there. It takes time, speaking up when you’re suppose to, not caring about the aliens that try to invade your privacy, etc. You also have to go through a lot of questioning. Questioning what you learn, what they tell you to do and almost everything to become purple. You basically have to realize that everything is upside down.

Another important part to find this place is taking the time to observe people’s true color. It becomes easier with practice and then you find purple people such as yourself that are also looking for this place but then you realize that the fact that you find other purple people makes this place look like Never Land. The reason why it’s called Never Land is because you may never know exactly what it looks like but then you also realize that you never needed to know. Once you make the decision, all the wonder starts and you get to see what heaven on earth looks like. There are many tunnels or instant passageways that take you to Never Land. It is different for every person. Some people are born knowing how to get there and they know what it takes and what they have to sacrifice. They know it’s not an option to give up on the journey since they raised their hand for the assignment. They know that it’s worth it. But then for some of us it takes a bit of time to realize we’re purple. And for many others it may even take a lifetime and even then, it’s not too late.

I’d like to encourage people to become purple or whatever color works for them, so they get to go to this marvelous place. Go through whatever you have to go through, even if it sometimes hurts. Whether it’s being different, experiencing a loss of a sort, dreaming big or being in the wrong song. This is what makes you and the more you make peace with your past, the easier the present moment becomes. And when you start to enjoy the moment, you’re in.

When I found Never Land, or more like created it, I don’t know how I did without it. It’s so peaceful, unique and windy that it makes me never want to leave. It has crystal clear water, I get to choose the weather and music plays without it having to stop. It is very colorful and time doesn’t matter. I get to compose, read, write and fall in love all the time in this wonderful place. Beauty is beyond words and people’s souls shine through like a ray of light. I sing and everyone can listen; I am constantly inspired and full of ideas when I travel to this place. Instead of sand you find gold dust and the sky is enchanted with clouds that have been painted personally for me. The trees grow as fast as sound and you never have to worry about anything ever again. This is how I feel when I go there. And sometimes I get to play with Red and she whispers beautiful stories into my subconscious.

Find your Never Land and you’ll never want to leave. I know I won’t.

Why perfection?

21 Aug

It’s an abandoned place. There’s a little girl that feels lonely. She doesn’t know what to do except pretend that everything’s perfect and express herself. There isn’t much to eat and she’s lost a few pounds. She’s pale and has short hair. She has forgotten what real life looks like. All she owns is one skin colored dress. Her feet are dirty from walking around.

She grows up through struggle. She doesn’t know what she deserves. Against all odds, she survives. She doesn’t know what to do so she decides to create. She dances and she sings. She starts to write these imperfect stories. Because of these imperfect stories, she’s curious about others that have also led imperfect lives. Perfection seems like an impossible dream. She still fights for it.

She’s on her way there and gets trapped in the middle. In between the old broken life she had and the perfect one she strives to achieve. Will she get there? It’s up to her.

On a cloudy afternoon she looks up and sees what she’s created. She’s made songs, she’s made a mess but she’s made something. The little girl is now a woman and she likes to forget. But when she remembers, she documents. She sees pain and feels it. She also sees a strange kind of beauty in others. She opens her eyes and realizes that the ugliness made her. The graffiti wasn’t a mistake after all, it was art. The stories she tells reminds others of where she’s been and how there’s nothing wrong with it, even when it shouldn’t have happened.

The hungry little girl still lives inside of her. Why strive for perfection? She doesn’t know but she doesn’t want what wasn’t meant to be had. Maybe perfection lives wherever we are now and what we get to create with what we have.

Seeing others have these seemingly perfect lives makes her wonder why it doesn’t feel like that for her. It doesn’t matter. What matters most is that she express herself. Even if all else fails, she must create. What saved her as a little girl will be what saves her as an adult.

Alle is beautiful. She doesn’t remember it often and others don’t tell her enough, but she is perfect. She might not feel it but her abilities are beyond belief. She’s flawed and isn’t afraid to show it and that’s as close to perfection as anyone could ever get.

Party girls

19 Aug

Party girls don’t get hurt, Sia’s right. Why does the numbness make big girls cry in the darkness then? Where do these suppressed emotions go? Do we bury them deeper or do we become so good at pretending that they actually disappear.

 1,2,3…1,2,3

 Party girls drink, this is true. Why do some have it together so easily and these girls don’t? How did we become these party girls? We like the attention, we like the emotions. We’re fabulous and nobody can deny it. Behind the scenes isn’t as glamorous but equally beautiful.

 1,2,3…1,2,3

 We just want to fly through the night and have our tears finally dry out. Will they ever disappear? Will age help? I don’t know. Until morning light, we’ll keep the glasses full. Until the moon vanishes, we’ll hold on as tightly as we can. The shame will show up but soon enough, the night will come again.

 1,2,3…1,2,3

 Losing count might be the only thing that makes us not lose it completely. Swinging from a chandelier seems perfectly understandable when this living situation makes no sense whatsoever. We don’t know where we are or where we’re suppose to be. It rang true to my heart.

 1,2,3…1,2,3

 I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to escape. Have I succeeded? Well, can anyone escape themselves? Until I know, I’ll hold on for dear life.

What’s left

14 Aug

I can’t stop dreaming sometimes. My day dreams are so real sometimes that I forget it’s a dream for a second. There’s a split of a second where I’m there and when I realize I’m really not…I STRUGGLE. It is so wonderful that realizing I’m not really there is like falling from a CLOUD. Sometimes I cannot channel this disappointment and I get frustrated.

But this bruised soul will be REBORN and START from scratch. Let’s see what I can do with the pieces and the time that’s left. Let’s see what happens with the bruises and the imperfections. I just hope that I get to taste the stage. I have savored it so many times in my head that I just want to know what it tastes for real. I play so hard my invisible piano sometimes that my ARM starts to hurt. I don’t want to be a VICTIM. If I did that, I would be no better than the rest. Yes, I completely screwed up by taking years to figure out what I already knew. Yes, I was lazy and did not discipline myself to do what I love. But it’s time to MEND my broken spirit. I wish I could know what will happen and how it will happen, but it would be no fun that way. Sometimes mending what’s bruised ends up being the greatest gift. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. I resisted life and now I let it be.

I need music, I need words, I need passion and I need love. I’ll work on being happy and going with the flow of life and what will be left will be what shines through.

Can I go back in time? No. So let’s see what I can do with what is left of me. I have a feeling it’s beautiful and it’s BRIGHT.

When?

1 Aug

You’ll be loved. Someday, you’ll be loved. Her mom assured her that she was worthy of love. The little girl believed her at first. Then someone broke her heart a little and she still believed.

12 years passed and she still hadn’t been loved. When? She wondered.

She learned the hard way to suppress the pain. Will it ever come? Will it ever happen? Who else has had to wait this long? No one she knew.

History has been painful but it helped her cope. If humans can endure so much, why can’t I endure the lack of love?

She saw a monster do horrible things and rip people’s hearts out and still…she wants to keep hers so that she can someday have stupid, crazy love. Even if it means suffering. Crazy, right?

She doesn’t get the urge to try as much anymore but her mother assured her that it’ll come back. When? No one knows. Time is strange sometimes. We cannot seem to wait. And sometimes the longer we wait, the harder it gets.

You’ll be loved. Someday you’ll be loved. When?

Winter

18 Jul

She was born in December. Her skin was pale as snow and her eyes black as night. The stars pulled her hair and talked to her constantly, especially when it was pitch black dark…they’d whisper lovely secrets into her ears.

Once the day came, she started to see other creatures. Most of them came in pairs. Venus started telling her about love and how she should desire it deeply. She was too young and easily got distracted by pretty things so she forgot to ask the purple goddess exactly why she should desire romance. But she believed her.

During the night she rejoiced in her solitude. During the day she searched for her mate. Everyone seemed to be taken. Some that she liked were wandering souls. They wouldn’t stay. Others were boring because all they did at night was sleep, afraid of the dark, afraid of the unknown.

Venus kept pushing her and as soon as she became old enough, Winter decided to sleep more at night so she’d have more energy during the day to look for that perfect other.

She’d sleep, wake up, search. The stars started to become a distant memory. Her hair wasn’t as messy as when she wandered through the night. She used to float, she used to sing, she was free.

The days became longer, the search harder. She’d meet creatures and they were never quite right. She’d sleep more, hoping maybe the right one would at least show up in her dreams.

It was her 30th birthday and she remained alone. The sadness put her in a comatose state. She was about to give up. And then one night, she had a nightmare. It was full of fearful monsters and settlers. In the dream everyone had somebody but they were utterly miserable. They had all chosen comfort over authenticity.

Winter woke up startled and couldn’t go back to sleep. She stepped outside into the woods and looked up. It all came back. The connection and contrast was too strong to ever fully escape her.

The stars pulled her back in. The darkness of the night hugger her. Winter began to create her very own constellations. The music returned. The trees danced in harmony. She decided to marry the night. It all made sense again.

During the day she’d plan for the night. Some creatures started to pursue Winter but now, she wasn’t willing to give up her nights.

This time, she’d wait for one that wouldn’t just keep her company during the days but also would embrace her endless nights. One who understood her restless heart. One who wasn’t afraid of the dark, one who wouldn’t run away and was clever enough to know that the only way to keep her was to let her go and let her be.

Until then, Winter would create, she would float, she would shine.

Killers

3 Jul

I would kill to make you feel, Amanda says.

I wouldn’t kill a mosquito, Chris says.

She’d never kill a soul, or so she says.

He killed my heart, I know that for a fact.

We talk about killing all the time. A part of us dies sometimes and we never even make enough time to mourn. Amanda once stepped on a dying bird; even though she’s not the killing type. Chris doesn’t kill any mosquitoes but he kills friendships, all the time. I’ve seen him do it more than once…but he’s not the killing type either.

She said she’d never kill a soul because her father left her feeling empty and so she killed her own. Beware. He killed my heart. He didn’t break it, he killed it. Did he care? Not enough.

Just because you’re very good at justifying your beliefs doesn’t make it right. Just because you’re not the killing type doesn’t mean you’re not a killer. Amanda is a genius. She shows death in a different shade of red. She understands. She sheds light on raw emotions, my favorite kind.

Be careful what you kill; you might want it back. It doesn’t matter if you want it back, you’ve given it away. I don’t know why Amanda is such a wonderful lyricist. A mystery as unknown as her killer.

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