But I was given this spirit-hard as I try to demolish my own courage,to persuade stillness,some desire to just be-there is a wanting within me that rises like a monstrous wave,overcomes the darkness pooling in my soul-it is a voice that belongs to a higher force,but resides firmly inside.I ponder the past,so many things I could've done differently to forge a better fate-but quit you won't! My entire being is preparing itself without order-sags at odd places have toughened,my carves and arms feel so robust-even the skin stretched across my bony fingers seem thickened-doubt dispensed,I know-somewhere in this vast,frigid earth there is a place I will discover that I belong.And on some level,I am relieved that this place is neither here,nor home-the search persists,until then I am to accept being a stranger.
Invincible and weightless is how I feel,not the best I could be-I look to the work of writers,their fictitious characters-those who've dabbled and played tic-tac-toe with their own self-destruction,those who've not by choice been reckless,trapped for years by spells that render them outsiders to their own self.
I must continue seeking,whether it is a mountainous peak I must conquer or,merely a fierce longing that makes me insatiable-it is what has kept me in pursuit for something fantastic,some thing that will prove greater than my own imagination.
from the journal,3/8