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aSian_oranGe
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Name: m i n a *
Country: United States
State: California
Metro: Bay Area
Birthday: 7/24/1983
Gender: Female
Interests: being serenaded by the dynamics of music. reading & writing. hot food that makes you sweat. sleeping to dream. engaging in good conversation.
Industry: Mortgage / Real Estate
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  orangetwinkler
Member Since:
11/28/2001
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My zest is being heightened,
as the rind on the lemons of my life
are being grated on the back of my past;
slowly turning into nothing but a mere garnish,
on top of a single serving slice of pie. Possibility.
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You could
have an ocean,
the amount of
tears you've shed.
We could
name it
after you.
So I sincerely
understand
now, why such
tiny gestures of
kindness shoot
rays of happiness
into your heart.
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The tracks criss cross over one another,
as you miserably realize you forgot to schedule
maintenance on Track Curiousity in lieu of Track Mystery.
You watch the perfectly matched words, the loner letters, and
random cliches exit through the trains doors. Single file, down the
escalator of what could have been the epitome of exquisite eloquence.
Your unconscious guilt, rising from the Shores of Opportunity, laps at your feet.
A quick jot here, a scrawl on the back of an old receipt there. It'll come together,
I got this. Taking it for granted- no, I'm not talking about people here. Something more.
Nourish it, love it, coax it out in that natural, gently effortless manner you're so inclined to.
Let it unfurl like a slinky dangling from your seperated fingers, relenting to the gravitational pull.
Just let it out, love. Take the barbed wire down, there's no need for that nonsense any longer. Really.
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Boxes upon boxes of memories.
Bags upon bags of hidden treasures.
Years of your life, flashing before you.
Peeling back your life, proverbial onion style.
It all comes seeping back.
Old photographs, old letters.
Trinkets, books, and saved mementos.
And you tried so hard, you've been doing really well.
But it all just comes flooding back.
The old photographs, old letters.
Trinkets, books, and saved mementos.
It's just a slight relapse of emotions, you'll be fine. Really.
Embrace the torrential onslaught.
They're JUST old photographs, old letters.
Trinkets, books and saved mementos.
What stays? What goes? What's in between?
Is it worth it? How do you deem what's worthy and what's not?
Are you really ready to throw it all away? Is it wrong?
To want to hold onto something that made you who you are today?
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It's like watching a film, filled with all of the tragedy and horror ever encountered on Earth..
..over and over again, because you don't want to tell the film dude in the room up there that it's on repeat. Hey, he might be having a long day. It's like laying on a bed of poisoned needles at your own free will because, hey, at least they numb the pain. It's like drinking that cup of coffee, scalding the roof of your mouth, and insisting on finishing it- because hey, there's a long line. It's like killing a person before they kill you, so you may carry the Bad Karma of Murder for them. My father told me this is a Buddhist thing, by the way. It's like ordering the least expensive item on the menu because you are ashamed that you cannot pay for them, let alone for yourself. It is holding your tongue, biting your tongue, biting the inside of your damn cheek to hold back the verbal warfare you wish to unleash. It is the effort. The tremendous effort of self restraint. It is the draining, exhausting effort. There is so much more, one could go on forever. The teeming efforts of sacrifice.
These are the burdens you carry. These are the burdens you wish to shrug.
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