kadencequincy
KADENCE’S TRILL
Questions. Comments. Concerns. Conundrums. Queeries.
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Pls don't percieve me
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last summer
when i’m suicidal, i don’t want to die. I forget what living feels like so killing my self seems like nothing more than an antidote from this dream.
but when you realize- it’s like waking up from being drunk, slowly gathering the pieces of what you did and could have done in that state. you put the puzzle together from staggered text messages, rampaged rooms, and the shock and disbelief that YOU would have done THAT.
It hits you with every late text message response and frame your eyes take in now that they’re free from that hazy murky film.
it feels like my brain is numbed. snaps can help me blink a little faster, but I quickly drift back into disassociation like a kitten trying to keep its head up from a tugging slumber. Though this numbness is sly like fox, stealing my eye from me and replacing it with a replica i don’t notice is missing. and when i do, it’s while i’m walking on a tightrope that until i opened my eyes was slowly being cut from behind me. I balance myself above a sea of consequences, and i must tread lightly now in order to avoid falling.
i’m out of tune with myself. kadence- i might have the rhythm, but not the right key.
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a caterpillar is a butterfly, but a butterfly is not a caterpillar.
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I’m setting myself aside because i’d block the view.
dancer
1/15/18
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Use what you have before what you can get
paper scraps
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“We can’t see the world, we see the world for ourselves”
snowbank
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A mirror as a shield is only as effective as the attackers ability to see themselves
meatyard
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A spiral can start, be defined, be observed, but it can never truly end. If closed, it is no longer a spiral, but just a shape defined by its close.
experiential
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gentle reminder that your best is different each day. take a breath. remember the little things.
take a moment to pause. go outside, and observe. look at the trees, how long it took them to grow mighty and strong, twisting branches to fit their surroundings. listen to the wind, constantly blowing as a breeze, gust, or seemingly absent. Look up at the night sky, and remember that you are staring up into space. That this world is more than what you know, what you see. And that you have so much more time and opportunity to experience it.
So go on a walk, look out the window, and remind yourself where you are.
You are more than these moments. You are not your situation.
You are real, you are breathing, you are here, right now.
And you will be okay. This too shall pass.
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Are humans just creatures painfully aware of their own existence?
morality
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the dozing of dawn
wishing the sunrise could be
awake in my dreams
hairuks
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to the Waiting
don't let the pain outweigh the relief. don't lose your chance to feel like yourself. it won't happen tomorrow, but it will. don't throw away the chance to find out. because there WILL be a time where you won't have to feel like this anymore.
coming from someone who's waiting, and someone who's had the door closed so many times, teased like a cat chasing a laser. it's going to feel like you got that annoying red dot a lot of times before you get rid of the need to chase it.
You don’t have to wait. You just have to stop expecting it to happen now, and accept that it will. Instead of waiting for what you can’t get, work on what you can.
You will be whole again.
You will be whole.
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Photo
I just went home. But I also just left home, and arrived back at home.
Where is home? Where the heart is?
It’s weird to think of myself as the same person who called Utah home. Where I grew up isn’t me, is it?
Neurogenesis was a word twirled up by my brain in Intro to Psych’s spaghetti. We are constantly replacing new neurons, cells, and parts of ourselves. Does there come a point when we are finally no more of our past? As if we are a rectangle sliding on the scale of time, holding no contents of our life near the beginning of the line?
But, we have to have a foundation right? Edit 10.3 was built off of one right? But is it really the same?
Sure, it’s not the same, but are we the apples constantly falling from the tree of our past waiting to be eaten by the future? Or does our past lives on the apple tree not matter because we’re oranges now?
Vague metaphors aside, I don’t know who I am. And I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t know who I was. So who am I supposed to be?
This picture was taken at home. My home in NH, a house resting at the top of a hill overlooking a golf-course that lays below the sky in the photo.
I took this before I realized what I was looking at.
But I took it knowing I was looking at something beautiful.
I just didn’t know why.
I hope I do now.
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why do some feel that other people’s interpretation of their existence is automatically invalid when it doesn’t align with their own?
porcelain
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rock skipin’
Lake Erie is the best place for skipping rocks. It’s decorated in collections of sea glass, fossils, and a vast amount of skipping stones. You could randomly select one of these flat and smooth rocks, and, if you were named third best rock skipper in your old town like me, you’d be able to make a decent number of ripples. When I sauntered along this lake, graced with these flat stones being kissed with the water’s edge, I couldn’t help but ponder more about this experience.
The number of ripples depends on selection and execution. I could scour the beach for the perfect rock, throw it, and my result may not be as successful. My stone may even ‘kerplop’ no matter how much I try. I suppose that’s my fascination with skipping rocks- it’s never the same expected result, but it’s engaging no matter the result you find. With Lake Erie, I have so many rocks to my access, and unlike other rock skipping sites, I don’t have to search so much to find one worthy of skipping; the beach is covered with these stones.
I don’t have to worry about not being able to find a skipping rock; I have access to a vast array of opportunities that allow me to skip as many times as needed. The rocks are laying at my feet, and all I need to do is throw.
12/18/2016
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