Sunday, December 14, 2014

Notes from my 61st trip (Cura e Barquinha)








I can't do this without her.










Everyday I just am in this constant state of inquiry: "Why do I feel this pain? What did I do to deserve this?" And the rest just kind of falls apart.










I feel myself growing very old.













This love I have for Flora has completely crushed me. The fact I can even write that out and smile, surprises me.












Why was I given this life? Why this story to know?












You think that things will never happen to you, but they do. Whether or not you survive depends entirely on your training.













I've given up for so long, but I'm starting to find the courage to fight back.













I'm the type of fighter that just trains + never competes. Part of that is b/c I don't care about winning. Part of it is that I am scared to know whether or not I could.











It all comes down to how much you believe in your path.













I think I've been walking around w/ the wound long ago. I knew she was going. But part of me just kept holding onto hope. I guess you could say that's what got me through the day.











There is only so much disk space in our brain hard drive. We can only take on so many other people's stories. Choose carefully, because you can never delete them.















I honestly cannot see myself. Like it strikes me as an impossibility that no one else can clearly express what they feel in writing.












When the day ends and you have absolutely nothing to look forward to. Yeah. I know that feeling.









I don't know why part of me finds the pain funny.













What is basically comes down to is that she was too wild for me. I fought her and lost.












Oh Marcella. I totally know the pain of being a writer.













Being on the right path is a lot of work. It is downright fucking painful.









I don't know if I'm getting any better.










I wonder what that point is, when that happens, when a person transforms from hobbyist to artist.











You have to trust your instincts.











Things aren't worth anything if you haven't sacrificed.











The problem w/ writing a book on my memories, is that I am unsure of my abilities to navigate the terrain well.












How much of that remains in our adult life? Just that innocent belief we wanted the world to be 'okay', like it took a serious part of us to think about it.











Life is a constant test of defending your beliefs.













I still feel her with me. Even after all of this, I can feel her embrace on my back.












Psychics. Part of us wants to know what happens. The other part is fear.












There is a reason you are here. You are learning things that you will not realize until later.












God. So much of this is just a fucking sobby personal journal. Haha. God, I'm so sorry to all of you.










I miss You, Flora.









All of the things I feel, it all feels like I don't have a choice.










Desirée pretty much taught what it was to understand people and to forever love them.












What scares me the most about the truth is that it might change my opinion about Flora. At this point, that's the only thing that I'm protecting. It's all I have left.









God Kurt Sutter, what a way to flush 7 seasons down the drain. Whether or not you are serious about thinking it was good is I guess a cinema joke for history.












A man who is truly at peace w/ his life, accepts who he is and who isn't, and can smile at his past, is a blessed person.












Sometimes I think the wave of writing will just consume me into nothingness, but then again, what's wrong w/ that?











You wanted more from her, but when you ask yourself, how will you support that in which you want? That is your mission. Solve that problem before you get that in what you seek. But know this. The inner child in you and the inner child in Flora are friends. They are meant to be together.










What it comes down to now is how can I help my father?










In witnessing the pain of others, you must learn something.












Actually. When I think about it. Flora and my ex-Cuban-girlfriend Liana, have a lot in common.












All the pretty lights. That's how most of us will end.














When a child becomes aware that they are not very smart. They were just not given the gift of wit. That is a painful realization.










I am trying to make sense of this pain.









Can I meet Libby, Desirée?









My mother will given everything for her children. She's been w/ me thru this hurt. Every step of the way. Thanks, Mom.










When you are going thru your own person shit-storm and someone comes along to ask you for help. How will you respond?











The feeling of being free to make mistakes. That is what I gave Flora.









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