Mirrors/Faith/Dust

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I am my faults and failings, and I wear them like scars. I am my boredom and lack of interest, and there is nothing to be ashamed of because I write from the heart and nothing else matters. There is love sometimes. There is a passion that burns and simmers, but I do my best to dampen it because it’ll wear me out like it has so many times before. Sometimes the urge and obsession to express myself with words leaves me disillusioned, and I want nothing more than to turn my back on it and settle down with a woman who can help nurse me back to health like she would a bird that’s fallen from its nest and broken its wing. But who am I kidding? I couldn’t quit this thing now, it has become me, and there’s no way back to the man who used to be me. And anyway, what kind of woman would be prepared to not only be my lover but be my mother as well? I am a man-child. A greedy loon with no need for social niceties and a fondness for solitude and the macabre and the study of the science of silence. There was a time when I would do my best to present myself to the world in a desirable manner. I’d iron out my flaws and give my best smile showing everyone that this was a guy you could trust, and above all, this was a guy that reeked of normality. But yeah, those days are behind me. I’m the king of losers. A ne’er-do-well who wears his badge of complacency with no sense of shame, but I have a way with words and feelings that give my vision a kick. I’m not Shakespeare, and I’ll never be King, but I will be someone who stood up and said no. Fuck you, I’m going to do this my way. I speak what I desire, honey, and it doesn’t matter how long it takes these seeds to grow, but grow they will I know. And that’s the problem I see with so many others. So few are prepared to make sacrifices for their art. For their souls. So many don’t believe in the soul full stop, and that says everything. But here I am, writing and pouring myself over these pages for no other reason than it makes me feel alive. Is it good enough? Does it mean anything? Does this anguish hold up in the grand scheme of things? Yes, it does.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com

21 replies »

  1. “I couldn’t quit this thing now, it has become me, and there’s no way back to the man who used to be me”.

    I feel this way about a few things that I haven’t yet had the courage to admit to. I feel emotional about this, close to tears because you read my mind.

    You’re fearless and I strive to be so.

    It’s all fucking fantastic…

    • I think we can all be fearless, it’s just a matter of finding our fears and knowing what to do with them.

      Thank you, though. I appreciate your kind words so dearly. This journey of ours may not be pretty at times, but it’s always full of feeling and integrity. Not many can claim the same.

      • I’m fearless with many things, things that would terrify many. I’ve driven on the Périphérique and to Holland with my 3 children on my own. I’ve faced drug dealers and ended an abusive relationship, because I AM confident in me. I’m the strongest bloody woman I know…

        but, I’m a scared little girl at times wishing that I could change things that (even here…now) I can’t summon up the courage to. I will though. Thank you!

        Ps. I just got a new Kindle and downloaded your book. ❤ I’ll read it after I’ve read Kindra’s.

      • You are a strong woman indeed! Im in awe of your strength and what you have endured. It’s people like you that inspire the rest of us 🙂 And It’s so pleasing to know you still have a sensitive side. Many lose such qualities along the way.

        Thank you ever so much for picking up a copy! I really do hope you enjoy reading it 🙂 x

      • I couldn’t wait, so I started it already. Ha! Thank you for saying what you said here. I have some faith in me but it’s good to hear that others do too. And sensitive soul that I am was concerned that you’d think I was a mad bitch for blogdicking all over your comments. 😊

  2. this is as honest as your mirror’s reflection. i love this piece for its candour and passion. you are a great writer and i always enjoy reading your poetic streams of consciousness. it’s intoxicating sometimes. to Hell with what others think. they do not matter. what matters is you and your self-expression, your tales, your thoughts, your outpourings. fuck everything and everyone else. opinions of others… do they matter? rousing a response is always welcome for writers, like ourselves that write from the heart, but do they truly matter? what matters most is your intrinsic satiation. if this holds you together, then write. write. write. write. it’s always been in you. i think it’s great that you’re self-publishing – i am yet to order my copy of volume 1. i am hoping you will sign a copy for me. i think i will wait and buy them both at the same time. looking forward to volume 2, already. keep doing what comes naturally to you. it’s a beautiful thing.

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