Letting go of the Past (Pt. 1)

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Dear Deluded Heart

Sometimes I feel the past trailing behind me, like a cape blowing in the wind. Except, this cape is not empowering. It’s a slow stalker, unassuming, always present… tied like a noose around my neck.
It is the memories of past events, which form the fabric of this cape. The problem with this, however, is that memories can be a misconception; the grandest of delusions. Like a magicians slight of hand, it’s all trickery. Memories can reveal the magic – be it joy or trauma – and conceal the trick; the actual truth of the events.
The greatest trick that my memories perform, is that they cloak themselves as longing; when I choose to remember, I think I still desire. So I keep myself remembering and hold onto the feeling of wanting. But in this twisted slow dance, I lose the verity of my thoughts. When I finally do face my past, the memory – which disguised itself as longing – finally comes out from behind the rose tinted glasses. I find that the cape was just an illusion upheld by my selective recollections. It only served in slowing me down, and it was one that I no longer needed.

This sudden epiphany came from today’s events: I finally confronted a piece of my past: For far too long, I’ve held onto Continue reading “Letting go of the Past (Pt. 1)”

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Diary of a Deluded Heart

2.Diary of a Deluded Heart DODH

(- Part 1 -)

You’ve all heard of the great Heart vs. Head battle. Well perhaps it is essentially because of this struggle that I’m at war with myself; – except mine involves less heart and more imagination… so it’s the clash between my Head vs. Imagination which takes charge of this deluded heart.

In this conflict however, there’s a fundamental problem; one lives within the other. Therefore, I live in a world with blurred lines intertwined; what I actually see with my eyes versus what I want to see with my mind. This world is a place regulated with changeable rules, governed by desires and idealisms, which do not depart through the barred doors of realism. I choose my minds eye to lead and blind myself to reality. But where I’ve chosen to move ahead with my imagination which transcends me to a place of infinite possibility, I find myself moored to the dock, chained to the place of my first dwelling. I’m a master of my own outcome on the one hand, but an immobilised and powerless pawn on the other.

I’m a captive who holds the key to my own prison door; the one that would allow me to go beyond just the theory of love/life/everything and towards the horizon. It is however, a key I’ve never attempted to use to escape with, because in a world where I’m anchored by inexperience, my imagination is liberating and sets me free…

I’m imprisoned by my only form of escapism.

So, the question is, do I continue to follow the manuscript of my mind where I’m stagnant and unmoved, yet free to wonder as I will? Or do I take myself beyond the shield and follow the lead of my head, where the air on my face is real yet the shackles of my feet weigh me down as I try to move forward and wander off into the real world..? Catch 22. “Great figure 8, or a tiny infinity…?”

(- Part 2 -)

For someone who’s never experienced love before, I’m always in love.

That’s not the best sentence to start off with; something contradictory and unfathomable, but it’s the God-honest truth; I’m in love with life and people and – kidding, I haven’t turned into a cliché just yet – I’m just in love with figments of my own fantasies I suppose. Granted they all begin with some sort of truth, usually the fictional or famous kind, but then the rest is all me and what I morph these ideas into.

Once I choose my target and cast them as my hero of the hour, I draw inspiration from their life; injecting parts of it within and then projecting it into the walls of my own mind. I adopt an internal view of an outsiders world… and in this enchanted place built up of their world and laced with my own perceptions and judgments of it, I fall in love; both with the idea of them and the narration of my version of them, so I guess…with myself…? Continue reading “Diary of a Deluded Heart”