still life/world building.

drifting, i’ve been laying in my bed soaking up the method of unlearning much of what i’ve learned growing up.

afloat, swaddling in circles upon circles in a system i think i’m born to lose in.

i think of dying traditions my mind keeps on wondering off to, uphold to, why?

looking through glass walls i see myself in different point of views.

a still life.

at a crossroad, heart is aching, begging to move on forward…

yet as its own entity my body is distracting myself from retreating back to the recesses of my mind.

a leap of faith into a dark embrace.

“i’ve been afloat for so long. drifting in the middle of everything. i just want to peacefully sleep.”

she says “why would this big blue ocean swallow you up when you’re already drowning in your thoughts.”

pushing me gently in her tides back to land.

“but i’m a storm. safer for others if i stay away from the calm shores.”

“you’re not a storm. you’re afraid of the glimpses you’ve seen as a child. deemed those past moments the outcome of your future as finite. obscuring the endless infinite possibilities of what you’re capable of.”

“so you distract yourself, excuses upon excuses, at the crossroad. build up these walls and called it a home. but you and i both know you’re looking out not because you’ve been afraid but because you know you can do something about it.”

“inside of you there is goodness. kindness you can offer.”

“the bigger picture needs painting and there’s a hue of colors and a paint brush you’re holding onto.”

“the worlds aflame.” she whispers.

“you said it yourself you see yourself in point of views.”

“you don’t need saving.”

“but i’m not a savior.”

“never said you were. they need therapists, a friend, a lover, scientists, a painter.”

“losing the good things in life is innate.”

cry if you must
cry a damn puddle
cry a stream
cry rivers
cry a sea
cry an ocean if you must

this is how you build worlds.