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Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn

Survival Mode— As a child, I learned to fawn. Every breath was a careful negotiation to appease my mother, her moods like changing weather—sunshine one moment, stormy the next. It was born of her emotional clench, the jagged edge of her words piercing deeper than any physical blow. I danced on the edge of her wrath, longing for her approval, trembling under the weight of a love that twisted and stung. When passion ignites, I fight. I lash out with words, fierce and unrelenting. It’s a desperate struggle, a wild grasp at hope—an ember in the dark. I contend with the shadows for a glimmer of light, a whisper of possibility. In those moments, I am a warrior, standing firm against the tide, even if the ground is crumbling beneath my feet. Then, there comes the flight. I recognize when the air has grown too thick, when the light dims, and the shadows draw near. In those final moments of clarity, I abandon the fight. I retreat, silent, slipping away without another word. My heart beats stead...
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I Don't Want To—

I Don't Want To— I don’t want to Love you, for Such hopes feel akin to madness, A fear that winds around me, tightly. You shall never return this love, I fear it in my bones— I don't want to Love you, knowing The fear does reside in my breast, A stone that whispers uncertainty; You’ll never love me, having lying eyes— I don’t want to Love you, my dear. I don’t want to Peer into the depths of your eyes, Where shadows linger in the eclipse of us, Becoming lost in that expansive sweet unknown. I don’t want to Love you, but oh! I catch my breath in moments we share, As the breeze wraps 'round me, tenderly, When you brush by—so close, yet so far. I don't want to Love with a fervor That drags me deeper, Into the storm of yearning, Far from the shores of sanity, All for you— I don't want to Love you, Fearing you’ll not, Still, the rawness echoes— Reverberating in the silence of my soul. Love me! I tread this as truth— Doodles of names, Fill the margins of pages, Filling th...

Living and life.

  Living and life. Living and life. Living in these times when all we hear of is crime and corruption. We’re fighting for our lives. Fighting for the sanity of our beings. When Hate seems to lead to the light of a different kind of view. Leading so many people into their minds. Scrabbling around to find out what they need to do. Because the teachings are so sublime. Some, so misleading that the Tolerance for being rude. Seems like the ride that so many seem to choose. When they get outside of their comfort zones. By the fear of being alone or confused with what is going on. When all we know is that we’ve been Seeking to become unglued. From the ways of social interactions from what we’ve viewed. Too much media influence and interactions that are so complex and construed. To be the justification for Justice that we use. When living and life actually start to get confused.           When living and life stares at the world, and you think you know t...

The Diary of Ella Briar Blanchard (Prelude)

Prelude: (Why Am I Going On This Journey?) Close your eyes for a moment, and picture a cup. I’m not going to ask you what kind of cup you conjured up in this fleeting moment, nor do I care if it was porcelain or glass, brimming with steaming coffee, wine from a carpenter, or stagnant water. Such specifics might divulge glimpses into the labyrinth of your imagination, a mirror reflecting your mind's vast corridors. But what about recall? I’m not just curious—I’m desperate to know if you can summon forth any visuals at all. Can you see your cup with such excruciating clarity that you feel as though you might grip its delicate handle and bring it to your lips, or is it merely an empty void swirling inside the caverns of your mind, much like mine? I can sift through facts and memory fragments, a slideshow of knowledge shuffling before me, but no images appear before me. My third eye isn’t blind, not in the mystical, ethereal sense; instead, it remains shut against the world’s vivid col...

More OR Less?

  MORE OR LESS? DREAM COMPLAIN  LISTEN  TALK   LOVE  ARGUE  HOPE  FEAR  RELAX  WORRY  BELIEVE  DOUBT  PLAY  WORK I saw this sign. Poster in a doctor’s office or a facility. So I took a picture because it spoke to me. It gave me thought to ask. Who decides? Really! Who decides what those choices are? What if we change the order? Will it make a difference.? Will it shift the mind to work in other ways? Drive the desire to improve? Will it give birth to inspiration? Who decides? How do you plan to make the changes.? Is changer always good? Is it appropriate for the masses?  You or I? Is there a word in the dictionary, the options, that anyone will read? Of course, these words always generate every individual it can be defined… Differently. The biggest Quandary… is figuring it out. Stepping out can mean so many things. For so many people, at certain times in their lives. But! Ask yourself. One word at a t...
  Reflection Now, no one knows their life before they live it. It’s impossible to detect which pathway one may take. Although we may plan things far in advance. It doesn’t mean that that’s the road…, that we will take. Life has a way of showing up. In the most arbitrary way. To say we have a perfect life. This is to say, we understand everything in creation. Although we study every evolution every day. Beat from the day and how it starts to the year and how it ends. We have no guarantees. We can predict many things. But the proof, positive evidence that we find. And the things that brought us here that we left behind. Are the telltale signs of what life...is. It's real! In the world and time that we are living. So now..., at this... time, today. REFLECT! Reflections on many things present themselves. And there is no master plan. On what we ponder about in life. When looking over the position of our lives where we stand today. Where we came from in the past. We only have the hope ...