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restless sleep of the wicked

“We wash ourselves clean of moments lived and wander somwhere that a new time begins…” ~*Dreampoet*~

If only it were that simple all the time, in reality and in our dreams.. don’t you hate it when you wake to find that it’s  a dream?  Consider that moment between dreaming and waking, filled with poignant longing to be back in the dream before it fades from our minds.

Sometimes I think that I live in a dream, and that all the things that make me happy are insubstantial and ethereal, real only in my mind and nowhere else.

Writing makes me happy, and it seems that when I first begin to write an online journal, my writing is filled with personal insights and deep dark secrets. As soon as it is read, however small the readership may be, I tend to want to censor myself. I wish it weren’t this way, and I wish I could gush out deepest darkest emotion without fear of recrimination.

I long to splash words out on the page heedlessly – exposing my bluest, and my blackest moments without hesitation.

I always edit though.


Who Heals Me?

Years ago, I came to terms with the fact that I am a Healer. I am put here to transform and transmute other people’s pain.

I came to this conclusion, because the only people I ever seem to attract into my life are the broken ones. The ones that need all the tenderness and love that I can pour out onto them. They bask, they glow, they find themselves once more, and once they are healed, they go on their way.

Of course, they never look back. If they did, they would see me vainly trying to cope with yet another broken soul’s baggage left behind.

I suppose that in some ways, I bring it upon myself. I find the broken people and I help to put them back together, but I seem to neglect to keep myself intact while I’m mending and soothing.You see, I have a fatal flaw. I love too deeply, too completely, and with everything that I have. I love the people who are unable to love me back.

Each person who comes into my life, receives everything that I have to offer. I spin a safe cocoon of tenderness where they feel able to put themselves back together without judgment, without fear of falling. Once the cocoon is no longer needed, they break free, their soul’s metamorphosis complete, and they flutter away.

It’s frustrating, it’s lonely, and oh, it hurts.