β€˜Twas always easier said that done,
drown my soul in thoughts,
I’ll fix this and then mend that,
to find in the end I’m still the broken one.
You can fill the room yet be the lonely one. I wish I met one real friend, even if only one.
Still trapped in thought as hope is gone.

β€˜Twas always more idealist than realist,
to believe, more hope for a Mote of faith.
Avoidant and damaged, crass and callous, stoic yet broken,
But I’ll manage.
Maybe not thrive but manage.
Just maybe, just maybe.

 

Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

Still Busy In Wonder: Silent Thoughts… Chapter 13

Insight, philosophy, thoughts, Uncategorized

image.jpegIn silence there’s noise. The untold can be so pure and valid. We often judge people on what we see and hear, removing context and ignoring the fact that we are constantly playing roles in society. We grow and mould our image, but character is harder to manipulate. Character is final. It’s who you are, the foundation of your existence.

I think about an interesting quote I heard about Tupac. It described the different facets of his personality as the person who he is, the person who he has to be and the person who he wants to be. I wonder sometimes if who I appear to be is reflective of who I am, who I have to be or who I want to be? I wonder, in a different world could I package my persona differently? Be exactly what it is that I want to be, free of any societal pressures.

Who you want to be and who you have to be are both things that can develop over time. Experiences can shape your understanding of life and alter your ambitions, but those experiences also have the ability to force you to act a certain way for survival. Raise a genius in a shallow pool and they will learn, adjust and ultimately fit in. They will be the person they feel they are required to be in order to strive in that environment.

I wonder how many people genuinely get to be who they are in this world? And on the flip side how many people are forced to adapt to the harsh reality of life. In a world where morality and acceptance lay on an ever-swinging pendulum how valid can anyone’s image truly be? More importantly to me, how true of a representation is my image of me? Ultimately I wonder if I will become a victim of this cycle or break it. In the end it will always be a battle between who we are and what we are.