Hoc Est Qui Sumus (discoflamingo) wrote,
Hoc Est Qui Sumus
discoflamingo

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My body is not my own - bizarre ruminations on a year and a half of blogging

Praying for myself,
These thoughts I try to hide,
I have faith in me, and hope this will survive,
But it's tearing me apart -
I can't hear the words by which I guide,
So I must ask again - "who will carry me?"


This is about one year since I got a paid account - as the e-mail tells me, anyway. About a year and a month since I started Livejournal. About a year and a half since I started journaling on-line. An odd anniversary, but appropriate to remember, I think.

I can not deny that nothing can defend
from the helplessness that's cutting deep inside,
and I can't prevent the thought that nothing's real.
It seems I've waited years for this day to end.


In that year, through the lovesickness, loneliness, and sadness - with the seeming victories over illness, homework, and work - something has changed. I am not the person I was. I looked back on who I was, and I am a stronger, more balanced person. I am more at peace with myself than normal - which is decidedly odd.

The strength I need to feel, the pride inside of me,
Are not there behind the face that's staring back at me.
The anger and the pain of knowing where I am.
I have come so far and I cannot return.


I spent most of today alone, again. Unlike a year ago, it didn't bother me. I needed time to be alone, and I haven't realized it until recently. I'm trying to make use of it as best I can.

Nothing I can do that I have not done.
No words I can say - no truth left that I can see.
So must I let this end? And everything falls apart.
Before I live my life as I have always done.


There is nothing new under the sun. And whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it. Which is to say, that you may not realize how important it is until years have passed.

Tell me what to do, so I do nothing wrong.
Something I can hope for - something real that I can see,
So nothing falls apart - so this does not end.
I cannot return - I can't start again.


There's no turning back to remove the errors from the past, and right now I don't think I'd want to, even if I could. Are they errors if they have lead you where you had never dared to go before?

Nothing to deny - nothing to defend
from the helplessness that's cutting me so deep inside
And I can't prevent the thought that nothing's real
It seems I've waited years for this day to end


I am what I am, and for now, I have learned to accept that. Onwards, with as much honesty, humility, intelligence, and vigor as I can muster.

Praying for myself,
These thoughts I try to hide,
I have faith in me, and hope this will survive,
But it's tearing me apart -
I can't hear the words by which I guide,
So I must ask again - "who will carry me?"
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