Good Days

There are my good days. I have days where I wake up from good dreams. I have days when I look in the mirror and realize that I’m smiling. I was once told that the corners of my mouth curve in such a way that even if I wanted to have a serious look I would still be slightly smiling. It’s a physical aspect of my face, not something I can force, and I have days when I’m thankful for it. On days like that I know that whatever bad days you brought me were worth the good days I have by myself.  Oh my love, it turns out that I have feelings that I can’t control. On good days it’s my bliss knowing that I’m better off, and I don’t need anyone to tell me when enough is enough.

-Pearl

Xibalba

Tonight I felt it again. The overwhelming sense of oneness with this world, and all the others beyond it. I sat and let it flow over me. I can still feel it overtaking every part of my body and mind. I feel it on my fingertips and entering my lungs with each breath I take. I feel the essence of the presence that lives within everything and everyone, not just of this world but to the stars and beyond. It’s all one. I don’t speak of religion, or the ways that man has sought to control the rest of the world, for that does not exist and changes with each generation. What I speak of is the real spirit. The free and never changing soul that is beyond the word “lives” for it has no beginning nor end. I felt it because I let myself, I let it in, and it gave me peace. For there is so much more than what the masses who inhabit this Earth choose to see and feel. They separate themselves from nature, although we belong to it, not the other way around. Some venture in to wilderness and marvel at its beauty, yet they do not give themselves over the vibrancy that surrounds those places. You simply cannot marvel, you can’t just see, you must feel every single spirit and sense that nature has for you. The warmth in me is from my simple ability to feel, and what I would give, to have all the world experience what I once called a curse. Maybe then they would understand that no one is ever alone.

-Pearl

Heavy

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the solution to your problems. I cannot carry the extra weight. I am just a person and making me out to be your salvation is just as bad as damning me as your downfall. Both of those things are entirely in your power, thinking otherwise is a lack of faith in yourself. Pick yourself up baby, because I’m done with all the heavy love.

-Pearl

His Ocean

Dear god I miss the ocean.  You know that feeling of expecting the water to be cold, and bracing yourself right before you get in? Well I always braced myself before I got in, tightening up all the muscles in my body and breathing just a little heavier. Yet every single time the water was warm, and it shocked my body into this incredible feeling of surprised relaxation.  The water wanted me to be there, even though its vast appearance suggested otherwise.  It seemed as if it never ended and there was too much to try and understand. The ocean was complex and more than I could ever hope to comprehend. Yet we connected. I felt the strength and sadness in each wave. As if it were pushing itself on me, yearning to be held, but retreating into itself as fast as it came. But I felt everything it ever wanted to say, but couldn’t. The ocean didn’t need to tell me about its loss, or how it hurt so may people unintentionally, or how much it craved to learn and discover although it was already wise, or how it wanted me as much as I wanted it. I just knew everything and yet so little about this full yet lonely thing. Each time I submerged myself I gained little tiny pieces, clues to it’s allure and spirit. I left my ocean while on the verge of allowing myself to give back what it had given me. I left knowing that it might not be the same whenever I would get the chance to see it again. I think about my ocean everyday, and how amazing it is that ocean is the only word to describe that boy’s soul. I miss him, and his ocean.

-Pearl