I don't know whether it is beautiful or sad, that I find such blissful happiness within the confines of my own mind, more so than I do in the reality that surrounds me.

You tend to write because your heart holds million unspoken words, writing is your only way to heal your own soul!

Within the earth__ womb each metal grows slowly developing and transforming into its perfection, its highest manifestation _ gold. Nature and God are striving towards perfection, everything moves towards One. Just as human strive to become fully conscious, so all the metals strive to reach their purest state _ gold.

Why?_ She nods. __he had everything: a family who loved her, friends, activities. Her mother wants to know why she threw it all away?_ Why you want to know why? Step into a tanning booth and fry yourself for two or three days. After your skin bubbles and falls off, roll in coarse salt, then put on long underwear woven from spun glass and razor wire. Over that goes your regular clothes, as long as they are tight. Smoke gunpowder and go to school to jump through hoops, sit up and beg, and roll over on command. Listen to the whispers that curl into your head at night, calling you ugly and fat and stupid and bitch and whore and worst of all __ disappointment._ Puke and starve and cut and drink because you need an anesthetic and it works. For a while. But then the anesthetic turns into poison and by then it__ too late because you are mainlining it now, straight into your soul. It is rotting you and you can__ stop. Look in a mirror and find a ghost. Hear every heartbeat scream that everythingsinglething is wrong with you. __hy?_ is the wrong question. Ask __hy not?

I value and honor the way that my suffering brings me to further search and surrender.

We__e all blurry-eyed wanderers of time, and the unfortunance of it all is that we__ probably all go on to do great things if only we searched for what corrected and focused our vision instead of relying on our past _ life__ grand kaleidoscope _ to help us find our way forward.