I noticed today that my inner child has curled up away from the world, my playfulness guarded with wary somber, interactions clothed in cautious mistrust, my sexuality hidden beneath plated armor. In my everyday life I have closed a part of me away dousing my usual vibrancy, cheeky wit and natural smile. Is this the result of the ending of my 2013? Or a general malaise born of frustration in my nine to five that houses, feeds and clothes but does nothing for my creative desires? I hold deep sadness in my heart an unsounded loss that I quail at, longing for something on the tip of my tongue but unable to give voice or articulacy. It rumbles disconsolately and now, as I take pause, forms shape; mortality sensed, regret pours in, glimpsed half thoughts ignored unite creating a cohesive image. I feel my age, I see life’s potential ending and know I have regret. I want greater meaning and honesty, I want a life of my own. It is time to shake my tresses free of the mundane and let my soul stretch and bathe in imaginations light.

I will start, as I always do when serious about something, with a list.

Words by errant satiety image from deviantart

7 comments on “Doused

  1. mrmodigliani says:

    Well that plated armor is searing hot and needs to be removed. 😉

  2. phoenixasubbie says:

    You write so eloquently, I’m always
    moved. Let yourself live. Xx

  3. Michael says:

    Sienna and I have made our blog private to allow for naughtier postings with fewer but higher quality interactions with a closer network of friends. We’d love to have you involved in our more intimate group of WP friends. The process for us to give access proactively is not very user friendly. If you are interested, please click on our blog and request access. Hope you will join us! 🙂

  4. sylviagrimes says:

    Perhaps it is just a natural cynicism which develops with age and experience? The more we experience hurt and loss, the less we are open to things which might cause this feelings in us…? I think so, and it is a struggle to not yield to it, one with which I am to be failing.

    • I agree it is a natural response to noticing your mortality, in the mirror, within your form or thoughts and taking stock. I know there are many things I have yet to achieve and I am no longer willing to wait. I cannot yield because I am full of life yet to be lived 🙂

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