The continuation of Peace.

Reading my blog, I am struck by how sad I often am, this is not to say I am always like this, for I am not, sometimes it feels as if the world is carrying me around on its shoulders, laughing and dancing into the sunset.

 But I only really have the urge to type up my feelings when I'm really sad, when there's something I want to say that I cannot fit words to, or when I just want to type. So don't get me wrong, I'm well aware my blog seems bottomless and depressive, but life is not like that.

Right now, I feel fine, there's nothing bothering me, the sun is shining through my window ( I've opened my curtains  I know right? Crazy. ) The birds are singing outside, Smudge is contemplating running out there I believe  I am not sad right now, my mind only lightly flickers over feelings of despair, and I brush them aside like tumbleweed.

 Poems are filling my head like water fills a bucket, I'm not too sure where they are coming from, yet I shall welcome them, be as depressive as they like, I enjoy feeling emotions whilst writing, for me, if you cry whilst writing a poem, or feel something for it. Its a good poem, and no matter how rubbish it actually is in real life, nothing can really take away that feeling of joy.

 Imagine this, my head is a cup, and underneath the cup, there is a tray, lets call it paper. There is a pipe and a tap leading from the cup into the tray. Every time I write a story, some of the feelings in my 'cup' move through the 'pipe/tap' (pen) into the tray, and there, they are written down for the rest of my life, and I cannot take the feeling away. This means, that everything I write, well nearly everything I guess, is an on-going commentary into my mind, my thoughts and feelings as you will, tied down to characters, and plot-lines  and words, but my feeling's none the-less. 

 The weird poem-y-thing I wrote as a post itself came out there and then, I had no thought past what rhymed and went along with my feelings, I just wrote it. It's terrible, but I hold a certain amount of pride for it, im quite proud of that.

 My birthday's in six days, I'm scared. Not because I'm aging or anything, im just afraid I wont get anything again this year, at least from one part of my family. Not that I'll be too worried If I don't, it's just a feeling I can't get rid of, no matter how stupid it may seem. I am a little bit scared I'll admit, I don't want to be older, and still not in school, I think the best birthday present I could get would to be able to go back to school, but the Tribunal's not even soon, so I know the chances about that.

 

The solider walked, never looking back, never stopping. Running from the horror's left behind.

Running from the pain and the blood and the hatred.

Running from hurt, and loss, and sadness.

And the solider forgot, because he must.

As we all must forget, and forgive.

But forgetting such atrocities is not easy.

And forgiving so much pain hurts.

But they will walk with you every step of the way.

Guiding and helping.

Helping you become you once more.

And shed the skin of a Caterpillar,

And metamorphise into a butterfly.