Thoughts

Feelings

Sometimes it's impossible to describe your feelings. But honestly, that's okay.

Because the inner workings of your mind are complex to the point of only expressing it in fantastic ways we call "art." And I find that a beautiful thing. No matter how dark or colorful these expressions may be. I honestly have no idea on what to write about right now, but my mind is buzzing with feelings. Therefore, I can deduce that I have the resources to make something utterly amazing, but it's just about finding what direction I want to take it.

There are millions and millions of stars in space. None of them are the brightest, or most important. But, all of them are beautiful.

The expression of feelings, whether violent or calm, can always create something meaningful and thought provoking. I remember creating many works of writing in a rage-fueled frenzy and then completely destroying them afterwords. I wish I would've saw the beauty of them and kept every last bit.

I wonder sometimes what the lack of sleep I am plagued with has to do with how I feel. As well as my inability to describe these emotions through conventional means. Maybe I would write something I'd be more proud of if I had just gotten some sleep. Or maybe I'm just hard on myself, maybe I'm just "my own worst critic" as most people say. 

Sometimes I wish the dead poets from the days of yore would be resurrected and guide me. Because I look up to their works and wonder what exactly they'd say about mine. 

I think the only thing holding me back is my own mind. 

I also think that sometimes I overthink things, and really need to just let the ideas flow through my fingers without filter. Maybe that's why I decided to start with my thoughts. To try and provide an output without judging myself too harshly. Or maybe I'm just going mad, I have no idea.   

I don't usually feel cold when I go outside. Ninety-nine percent of the time I could even wear shorts in the snow. However, the only times I have felt cold, were very different. Once I can recall, I had peered over to the treeline late one night. The branches were softly swaying in the cool breeze. I felt cold. Deep into the inner recesses of my soul. I wasn't cold physically, yet I had shuddered and goose-flesh had formed all over my being.