When I was young I figured by the age of 30 I would be quite resilient. I childishly assumed that the years of self abuse, rejection and masochistic behavior would somehow translate into an indestructible shell of armor, making me impervious to the wretched feeling of loss and despair. I desperately looked forward to a day when I would be stronger. I somehow thought that it would only be the younger years of my life that I would spend buried in my own thoughts wrestling with how I once again decided to take shots at my feet simply to spite my legs and how to recover. I honestly thought that I would grow patience, maturity, an overall sense of understanding and maybe even sprout some sort of self defense mechanism that would enable me to deal with the internal dry heave that is ;loss and the overwhelming realization that I should have just kept quiet once again.

What I have come to realize though unfortunately is the exact opposite. That in my youth I was so resilient and that it was my unknown sense of innocence and ignorance that kept me from taking in the full spectrum of painful events. It kept me from ruining myself through rampant self destructive thought processes and the over analyzation of said events to hopefully come to some sort of conclusion of what happened, and how to prevent myself from making such poor decisions again in the future. Now I find myself constantly trying to link comparisons to past related events in order to safely put one foot in front of the other rather than falling on my face continuously. The humorous result of this is simply this…If you spend long enough staring down at your feet in fear or stumbling, you tend to forget where you are going and the original direction that you intended on traveling. You spend so much time trying to reason with the feelings inside, you forget to look up and realize that you are again going in the wrong direction and more often than not you find yourself lost again.

Its not very often that I come up with a title to a post prior to writing the post itself, but today is different. Lately I have found myself writing more than ever. Not because I consider myself to be anything special when it comes to my pen scratching fragmented ideas and over zealous pronouns on rough pages of cheap notebooks. At some point this year decided that maybe if I could take the struggle out of my mind and transfer it to some other medium I would be able to calm the storm within. The result of this self experimentation is an abundance of “drafts” written between my blog’s draft section as well as scattered old notebooks in my home. I have no idea if I will ever use any of these paragraphs for anything other than reflection or if at some point they will serve a greater purpose when I finally am able to transfer thoughts, lines and analogies into musical lyrics. Here’s to hoping I one day will be able to write songs like these attached below and rid myself of this “overflow”.

Enjoi.