My thoughts. Hmm, where to begin? I've got so many thoughts, I'm not sure where to start. I could start with life. I could start with art, love, creativity, life, friends, relationships, my personality. There are so many places I could begin or end with. I might even work backwards and start at the end. Who knows? I might possibly start in Brazil, while I'm sitting in Wisconsin. Or start on an invisible island, that everyone can see. Maybe I can start with what a blind man sees and what a deaf woman hears. Or what a mute child says and what colors a dog may see. The possibilities are endless, but which one should I start with? The beginning or the end? The said or the unsaid? The seen or unseen? The heard or unheard? How long have i been in this storm? So overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form. The water is getting harder to tread with these waves crashing over my head. As I sit here, watching the countless faces of people I only know by name or don't know at all, they laugh, they cry, they bicker, and they complain with their closest, or so the think, friends. I watch, I wait. I get addressed, I answer, I stare off into space. The world drowns out around me and I can no longer hear the giber-jabber of this dreaded world, but just a steady buzz. I can see their mouths move and facial expressions change in an in depth conversation of gossip. I'm always here, floating around like a ghost. Wearing a mask to hide who I am because no one would understand why I am this way. I've hidden my pain well, because no one can see and if someone does see, they don't say a word. I've perfected the art of a clean expression. No emotion or frustration lies written on my face. My eyes are clear, my lips are silent, and my movement is smooth. Not a line, not a scar, nor a glare of frustration. I've evaded the questions and so I'm left alone with my thoughts without worrying about explaining myself to someone who wouldn't even begin to understand. Frustration lies behind these walls. Trapped behind bars of steel and barbed wire. Aggravated by constant noise, angered by pathetic, heartless lies. Over-loaded with too many things to do. Pushed to do things I'm not comfortable with. Wanting to scream but finding no voice. I've always had the premonition of a soul like my own running from the pain and tension but for now i will womb curl in a blanket of darkness, place my hand upon my heart so i will be the first to know that i have died. Living separate lives, yet yearning to combine. Feeling the cool, reassuring air slowly fill my lungs with each, short gasping breath. Almost free, from the strangling grip of death itself. Soon, I tell myself, I can run free. All worries gone, melted away with the winter's snow. Almost there. So close I can taste it's cooling sweetness sliding down my throat, giving me life and strength. So near and yet, so far away. Hurry, I tell it. Faster, I say. It doesn't answer, but I know its on it's way. The feeling is brand new. Like the first flowers of Spring ending the Winter's devastating hand. A fresh start, a new beginning. A chance to start a new, a chance to set things right. A gasping breath of sweet, freash air. Almost. Oh yes! I can almost breath.
