Less and Less it Becomes

In my past I thought of the present a lot.
Or: I thought of my future with the people at that present in it and did not carefully assess what my actions would do to their future in mine.

This means I made decisions without consulting my conscience, without letting it work.
The best friends I had around me, loved me through it all.
Maybe that’s why it kept being easy to make those choices.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Until someone stopped wanting to be with me because of my poor decisions.

I’ve had to take responsability for decisions in the past. Do the time.
But not specifically dealing with this character trait of mine. This gigantic part I have created, that is a part of me and becoming less and less of me all the time.

When I make the decisions to walk away from something I wouldn’t have in the past. To look forward and think, ‘ No, I’d like to protect myself and be this better being and in order to get that result, I need to walk away now. ‘
Continual choices that make that part of me less and less,
makes such an excellent feeling inside these bones
like I am slowly letting myself free
with guidelines I am aware of and that I desire to follow.

Funny how being free can mean following rules.
As I am letting a part of me finally go, I am shaping into something else.
And I can feel it’s breath breathing soul into me.

 

 

 

 

 

Connections Big and Small

Shadow of large long branch on beige wall.
Moving because that’s the moves of the century.
Moving because that’s the way to feel the world.

And conversation with parents voices. In my headphone ears.
One was in Canada. And the other in Brazil.
And there I sat in Thailand, on a wooden bench with bats winging around my head.

Special feelings are ones where only certain people or things can make happen.
They can be small.
Like shadows on walls.
Or big. Like family.

They can be big like culture.
Culture doesnt fit in my head. It comes bustin out of my ears and I write about it like I’m reliving it and all those feelings comes swimming over. Easily.

Small things that poke your mind and feels good. A connection. Within yourself. Like you’re the one laughing at your own joke. The joke you told inside your head.
Because her hands massaging my face, smelled like a bubble bath I had years ago. Because that smell rolled up a memory and a frame of time I hadn’t thought of in years.
And love gets to be both big and small.
Because small things can happen and you connect it with love. And big things happen that we attach love to, too.
Like proposing.
I’ve never been proposed marriage before.
But I’m married.
And have been proposed hundreds of things.

And it is later than what it was earlier
So that’s usually a good a sign as any
To get into the clouds of Sleepville.