do you?

Do you ever see others who are successful and wish you had their skills or were in their position?

Do you spend a few moments thinking of how you could make it possible, and then feel defeated when you realize it’s impossible to have exactly what they do?

The good news is that you don’t have to be everything; you only have to be you. The next time you see success in someone’s life, cherish them instead of envying them. Be thankful they’re living out something on this planet that you don’t have to carry the weight of yourself. Be thankful that they’re giving you the room and the possibility to live out your own unique and authentic self, which only you can provide the world.

Be yourself

free-will

Instead of spending endless moments thinking of what could be, use that time for turning it into a reality by taking action.

The law of the Universe respects your free-will, so it’s up to you to take initiative to change your life and make your dreams come true.

don’t hold back

Be who you truly are right NOW. Don’t wait for things to fall in line perfectly, because life doesn’t unravel in ways simply to accommodate the human mind. You’re more than your body, more than limitations, and more than any amount of fear.
Don’t hold back

the people around you

Evaluate who the people are in your life. Do they challenge you? Support you? Are they a reflection of what you aspire to be in life? If not, it may be time to detox from unhealthy friendships and relationships.

Often times the people we’re surrounded by unintentionally become the foundation our lives are built on. It happens when we don’t notice, and suddenly we find ourselves being out of sync and feeling lost and confused. When this happens, usually we blame ourselves and criticize our past and find fault in all that we do.

The point is to not point fingers or play the “blame game.” It’s not anyone’s fault — yours or anyone else’s — for your life spiraling out of control. Human connection is all about being in the “flow” with one another; this means that we become in sync with the people we choose to allow into our lives. Sometimes, we try to lend ourselves to people in hopes of helping them or to fill a void in our own lives as a last-ditch effort to feel complete. By doing this, we become in sync with that which is actually out-of-sync for our life path.

Life is all about fluctuation, and every situation we experience must be seen as an opportunity. It’s never too late to re-route ourselves back to what is fundamentally important and meaningful to us. Do not surrender your free-will to others or your own despair; only you can change your life and the people in it.

Take charge of your life and create a life that you’re proud of. Surround yourself with people who are just as proud of you, who honor your values and can see your highest self and your greatest truths.

goal

The next time you have anxiety regarding what you think you SHOULD be doing in life, know that most times this guilt and fear is rooted in others’ projections of you. Give yourself time to live and “be” guilt-free and fear-free. Doing what you love and living out your life’s purpose should bring you abundance and happiness — lower-vibrational energy and feelings are not what will propel you to your goals or where you want to be; passion, truth, and perseverance will.

The Magic Undefined

We found ourselves in a world between dimensions, time-bending and shape-shifting into lifetimes of past and future. The feeling of floating, pulse-beating astral-physical. Of joint-déjà vu, a collision into the unlimited. Having a home beyond four walls and two arms and two legs, a safe-haven visible only to us. I am you and you are me; we are each other. The lone survivors of a dream dreamt together lightyears ago, before bodies were lived in or land was walked upon. A dream meant as a promise, as a lighthouse to guide. We are the evidence of alchemy, a magic undefined.

To My Valentine

Its not what it means to you
Its what it means to me
Whatever we may go through
Always there will be
Love, Trust, and Loyalty.

The road may be rough
Our path not paved in gold
To me, you are enough
To keep from growing cold.

Though the distance may be great
And meetings are too few
I know its worth the wait
When my eyes set on you.

So patience is a virtue
Especially with you and me
Keeping a love so true
As long as there will always be
Love, Trust, and Loyalty.

Flawed Perfection

One of the worst things you can do for yourself is to pursue the art of perfection. The idea of perfectionism is based off of other people; the moment you turn your life into someone else’s art project is the same moment you’ve lost yourself. So quit trying to refine yourself. Be a mess; be bold. Take risks and create for yourself. Look within for the magic instead of trying to replicate someone else’s story that’s been transposed. Free yourself, and then liberate others with that newly-found freedom.

Live

The next time you have anxiety regarding what you think you SHOULD be doing in life, know that most times this guilt and fear is rooted in others’ projections of you. Give yourself time to live and “be” guilt-free and fear-free.

Doing what you love and living out your life’s purpose should bring you abundance and happiness — lower-vibrational energy and feelings are not what will propel you to your goals or where you want to be; passion, truth, and perseverance will.

Because 2014

Evaluate who the people are in your life. Do they challenge you? Support you? Are they a reflection of what you aspire to be in life? If not, it may be time to detox from unhealthy friendships and relationships.

Often times the people we’re surrounded by unintentionally become the foundation our lives are built on. It happens when we don’t notice, and suddenly we find ourselves being out of sync and feeling lost and confused. When this happens, usually we blame ourselves and criticize our past and find fault in all that we do.

The point is to not point fingers or play the “blame game.” It’s not anyone’s fault — yours or anyone else’s — for your life spiraling out of control. Human connection is all about being in the “flow” with one another; this means that we become in sync with the people we choose to allow into our lives. Sometimes, we try to lend ourselves to people in hopes of helping them or to fill a void in our own lives as a last-ditch effort to feel complete. By doing this, we become in sync with that which is actually out-of-sync for our life path.

Life is all about fluctuation, and every situation we experience must be seen as an opportunity. It’s never too late to re-route ourselves back to what is fundamentally important and meaningful to us. Do not surrender your free-will to others or your own despair; only you can change your life and the people in it.

Take charge of your life and create a life that you’re proud of. Surround yourself with people who are just as proud of you, who honor your values and can see your highest self and your greatest truths.

Even after you find like-minded people in your life, do not rest on their laurels. Keep challenging yourself and allow the momentum to build. Complacency leads to stagnation, which is a sure way to lose all personal control over your own life.

Instead of spending endless moments thinking of what could be, use that time for turning it into a reality by taking action. The law of the Universe respects your free-will, so it’s up to you to take initiative to change your life and make your dreams come true.

Horror Story : Blood Donor

Warning: May trigger nightmares. Reader discretion is advised.

On some of the earth’s very best days, one hundred and fifty thousand people die, and so for that reason I find donating blood and organs to be very important. My blood type is relatively rare, and so I’m a person who finds themselves frequently giving in to the demand of their assets. I’ve been a blood donor since 2005 after I first murdered a teenage girl in the yellow corn fields of Illinois. I was told I saved three lives that day, and I have no doubt that I did. 


I spent a good deal of time building my house, which is very quaint and stands like a single, unmoving tooth that juts from the earth, as if the planet’s crust was punctured by a wooly giant who had tried to devour it in a single crunching bite. Sometimes I live in Iowa, and sometimes I don’t, when the steely grass sways like pieces of wire beneath a silver Midwestern sky and I miss the smell of Florida. They found the woman I dismembered in the same year I donated bone marrow for the first time, and it was also the year I nailed a little Polish girl to Saint Peter’s cross. They were unable to locate the head, which I still have in a small box somewhere. 

I became a registered organ donor in 2010 while I was living in Washington. A single organ donor can save up to eight human lives, which is very interesting because I take about six human lives in about an eight month period. I believe that this is around the same time that I started donating skin grafts to burn victims, but it could have been later than that. I remember that in 2011 a woman who was wearing strips of my left thigh on her melted face shook my hand and thanked me in a garbled, drowning voice. She could have been smiling, but I’m not sure because it looked as if she had been born made of rubber.  

The home that I have in Washington is in a suburban area. Though I’m there only infrequently, I keep my lawn and landscaping in the most perfect order, although the inside of the house has very little in it. It was mid-summer when I strangled the landscaper with a garden hose until his face was blue and his neck wore a fat circular bruise like a necklace of permanent pain. I would have buried him in the rich, brown mulch of the garden that he’d put together for me, but I had an appointment with the Red Cross so I folded him like a dirty shirt and shoved him into a crawl space instead. 

My arms are lined with the black bruises of sacrifice and my skin ripples with the many bubbling and dimpling scars of my vicious selflessness. I give and take with such violence and kindness that it often seems as if I swell with duality, that a black ocean of pluralism rocks and sways inside me like dark wine in a shaken bottle. I am cleansed with salt, I am covered in oil. The world is crushed beneath my hand and I am swept away in a gust of wind where I disappear forever. 

Some time recently I bought a nail gun from a hardware store and used it to shoot holes in two sisters that I was keeping in my master bathroom. They made sounds like moaning cows, as if they were communicating in a secret language of suffering. One gurgled through the hole in her cheek and I couldn’t make out what she was saying and I wanted to, but it was time for me to donate platelets. I killed them quickly later and I know they would have thanked me for eternity for the release. 

In the very depths of my heart I know that my time is coming to an end. I am running out of things to give. I popped off my thumb nails with pliers and taped the bloody shapes to the wall in hopes that someone would come and take them, but no one did. 

I am on the brink of inequality. I am on the verge of singularity. 

The organ donor card that I got for myself those years ago is in the breast pocket of my shirt, and it’s there beside my heartbeat, being drummed by the stampede of pulses. I killed her, a young woman, fat, pretty, and I slid my knife into her like she was made of the silkiest butter, imported from the dairy farms of France. She was screaming and I killed her, and while she was still alive I pulled apart the slits I had made so I could see the curdled yellow mush of fat that bloated her carpet of skin. I broke her face with my foot for no other reason than because I could. She was making bubbly groaning sounds when I tried to lift her into a dumpster. She was too heavy so I left her hanging mostly over the edge, her thick ankles sticking in the air like tree branches stuck in mud. 

I jumped from a chair and broke my neck in a final act of ultimate balance. And I can’t move or really see, but in the ambulance I become very acutely aware that I’m going to die. I am peace. I am chaos. I am duality. I have achieved equality. 

There’s someone putting an air mask over my face though I know I’m about to die, and the person adjusting it seems to know this as well. He’s saying that they found my card, and it’s a good thing they did because they just admitted someone with the same rare blood type as me. I could probably save her life. They found her not too far away. She was stabbed fourteen times and needs a transfusion.

(Oh the irony)

Matchsticks in a matchbox

Five men, lie in the dirt, with their bodies lined next to each other, like matchsticks in a matchbox, with the sulphur softening up on their heads. We look like the creepy insects on the forest floor, covered in moss, camouflaging to the mercy of the forest, under its thick canopy, patiently awaiting their turn.

Our guns are useless – we ran out of ammo, or lost it on the way down. It’s dark, so dark. We almost lost the lighter. Thank God we didn’t. What would we have done without it?

Jack’s nervous tic is coming back, and he keeps pressing the push button of his pocket knife. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click, like the shutter flash of an old camera.

Between us, there’s still enough water for three days, and Mark has five food boxes. If we’re careful, there’ll be one for each of us. If we’re lucky, they’ll last a few days. Hopefully, someone will find us by then.

It’s so quiet down here. I wonder if I’ll be able to sleep.

I wonder, what will be of us, if its four days and not three.

What if its five days, six?

We’re running out of things to burn, and what little kindling we have left is shooting off sparks like fireworks. The wood’s a little wet. Sam tells us it’s dangerous to light it. Mark doesn’t care though. Mike is starting to whimper softly, his jacket drenched in blood and sweat. But Mike, where was he shot?

Jack keeps pressing the pocket knife’s push button. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click, like the shutter flash of an old camera.

Mike is the first to fall asleep.

There’s no more wood to burn. I’m surprised it lasted three days. The darkness is total, oppressive, down here. Three days? We don’t know how many days it’s been. Four days? Or just a few hours? I want to keep asking the others, but I keep forgetting.

 The only sound is Jack pressing that goddamn push button. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click, like the shutter flash of an old camera.

I count Mike’s fingers – trying to find his wound, I’m surprised he didn’t wake. Sometimes, I search for the bullet hole. It’s high up on his left shoulder. I can feel the ridge of his collarbone.

I hold my breath and wait a while, maybe hoping I’ll hear him breathe.

We are all lined up next to each other, still. Like we were three days ago, four days ago? A few hours ago?

We ration off our water, and discuss who’ll get Mike’s food box. Sam is mumbling about someone’s eyes. Mark and Jack start singing. They keep time with the clicks of the pocket knife. Sometimes Sam’s watch will flash like a distress signal out in the bay. Nobody asks him what time it is. He is the last one on the left, he just keep checking, murmuring it to himself.

There used to be an old swing in our backyard that my mother would take me on. At night, after it rained, if you closed your eyes, you could feel the swing; swing. You’d close your eyes – you couldn’t see – but you’d feel the swing of the swing. That’s how it feels down here, a swing without its hinges, swinging. Spinning higher into darkness. Spinning into the abyss.

Jack is pressing that push button. There’s no ammo in our guns. Sam is murmuring, murmuring. He thinks something’s watching us from the abyss. I make sure Mike’s eyes are closed. Sam says they’re watching us, but none of us know who they are. It’s only been four days, or three. I can’t stand the sound of Jack’s camera flash. Click-click. Click-click, all day.

We don’t have any more food boxes, and the water is going fast. We barely drink enough to wet our lips. It’s gone before it reaches our throats. I know all of it will be gone by today.

I don’t know which one will snap first, Sam or Jack. I can feel Mike’s bones through his skin. Pressing up against me on one side. I wonder if I’ll be joining him. I’m hungry. It’s only been four days.

Sam is preaching to us. He’s telling us about the eyes. The eyes – whose eyes? – are in the darkness. Mark tells Sam it’s only ours, reflecting in the glow of his watch. Sam’s watch died two days ago. He was checking the time too much.

I can hear Jack clicking away with his pocket knife, like a camera… It’s a pocket knife. It’s cold. I want to light a fire. I wonder if Mike’s jacket will burn. I count Mike’s fingers – there are four. I cut one off yesterday. I can’t remember what I did with it. I think I threw it away.

Five. There were only five of us. God help us, it’s only been five days. Mike fell asleep three days ago. There are only four of us today.

Jack is pressing the push button. I didn’t throw Mike’s finger away. I can’t recall. Over us, I can hear it raining. I want to hear the sound of rotor blades. Feel the blowing dust in face, as they come to rescue us. I can’t see anything, but I’m watching them, and I know they are watching me.

Maybe Jack will be next, I hope he is. I want that pocket knife of his. And maybe when I get it, it’ll be easier to cut off fingers. What did I do with Mike’s finger?

I feel a tang in my mouth, I spit blood on my hand. It isn’t my blood.


There are two of us tonight, and I have the watch and the knife. I’m still hungry.

Five matchsticks in the box. Two still sulphurous blue on their heads.

 

30.11.13

XI.XXX.MMXIII

I don’t just want your heart. I want your flesh, your skin and blood and bones,
your voice, your thoughts, your pulse and most of all your fingerprints, everywhere.

—Isobel Thrilling (via staygoldjess)

(Source: oust, via writingsforwinter)

NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY