I’ll be here and there, every now and then.

 
i’ll be here and there every now and then. 
a thought in your mind, 
an image in your head 
so picture perfect 
and drenched in red 

the end is the beginning, 

and depression is our friend 

  because he sympathizes with us 

when THEY say we’re crazy 

  and he puts his arms around us 

dims the lights, makes everything hazy 

like “i dont know whats real anymore” 

and “i cant believe i fell for this”
like “nothing matters and no one cares” 

and “i’m giving up, it’s easier, it’s time, to quit.” 

so why do we run and hide all the time?  why do we ignore the pain and pretend that we’re right.. 

we are always so painfully right. 

can there be beauty in being, wrong 

in finding out what you didnt know 

and letting it change your world? 

can it be right to find out your wrong 

is it treasure- 

is it gold, is it myhrr? 

4763 reasons. 

529 ways. 

Numbers that are meaningless, 

or maybe just mean days.//

Time can never be timely 

only in his sick, twisted way 

and life, is definitely worth living.. 

i sleep through every day. 

    You can never know me, 

I know how hard you’ve tried.. 

and you can never love me 

because in the recesses of your mind 

there’s a voice that says you do 

when you dont 

and so what you believe to be true 

is as unreal as what you dont. 

i’m not who you thought i was 

and i’m everything that you hate. 

i’m not who anyone thought i was! 

it’s weird, it’s delicious, 

i’m not afraid. 

and i’m not who you thought i was 

sad, the tear drops roll 

and i’m not who i thought i was.. 

never could be more 

at peace 

as i’m broken in pieces 

dreaming 

in my own reality 

creating a world 

thats know me 

the world 

that cares 

a world 

that allows me to be 

anywhere, everywhere 

what i am, who i’m not 

what i want to be 

who i can never be 

all alone, 

because you, somehow, forgot. 

you forgot to believe. 

you forgot the real me. 

you forgot, because you never did see.. 

you never would have seen. -Aun Aqui 

******* 

It’s Sunday. 

It’s been raining for.. days.. and I love it.  🙂  

Storms, are everything.  The sun – is narrow minded, so limited, so foreign to me.  It comprehends only “the lovely,” “the pleasant” (whatever THAT is, relevant to taste), “the simple.”  The rain, the thunder, and the lightning– embrace depth, beauty, tragedy and profound moments of joy,.. cleanness, darkness, newness, antiquity, God, conflict, release.. everything.  I lose myself in the rain.  I lose everything I don’t want to have, and I gain.. clarity.. 

And today, is Sunday.  

I woke up and it was past noon (give me a break; the other 5 days of the week I “rise with the sun”.. 6:20 am..), broke my 24 hour non-intentional but incidental fast, put a  load of dirty clothes into the wash (today is the weekly laundary day — only day of the week when I have time!), and brought Charlie with me into this empty dorm room.  Number 8.  It’s one of the only rooms that gets continuous and strong wireless signal, so, with it being vacant, I see no harm in spending some time in here during my stay.  

Went to an SDA church in Monticello yesterday, and ate lunch with brethren afterwards.  It was nice.  I do fine in social situations; sit, listen, speak, laugh, smile, process every word and phrase that enters into my mind before vociferating it.. I know what people do and do not want to hear, and while I don’t “make up” pleasing words, I only allow that which is natural and acceptable (in such dignified company) to escape my lips (as in, while I may be thinking of the profound presence of trees in my life and how I cherish and couldn’t live without a deep capacity for thought.. I will, instead, ask why the Queen and King cannot co-rule in England).  Anyways, the food was good!  Vegan, well-prepared.. the scenery was lovely, very green.. although nothing compares to my sweet home, Alabama. 

Ah.  Yes, Alabama. 

I want to move back there. 

Not that I wouldn’t miss my family.. I would, terribly.  But I just don’t feel at home there (Florida, the state that I’m speaking of).. and in the 8 months I was there, I never did.  I forced the words, “it is good to be home..”, I faked the sentiments, I tried to urge unnatural attachment and fondness for the area on myself.. but, it’s all dumb.  Florida bites.  It’s overly-populated with either crazy teens or masses of the elderly, it’s wicked and immoral, with either a bar or strip joint on the left or right hand side of the road every 3 miles, tattoo parlors scattered like leaves  in Autumn on this block or the next, scantily clad women and prowling men, superficial and glorified life of phones, dates, beach parties, car shows and shopping and.. I hate it.  There is ZERO depth, solitude, beauty in that state, I’m sorry.  I’m not hating on the beach.. but, for ME, as an individual, the beach holds no depth, nothing special.  Atleast not the beaches of Florida.  More marvelous, more attractive and glorious are the rolling hills and gentle slopes of Alabama.. the hidden underworld found in caves, the tremendous surge of the waterfalls, the quaint, quiet and intimate overall “feel,” the bright, shining face of Alabama herself — who says, “I’m beautiful, and I’m decent.  This state is rated PG, and is christian friendly.  You can find yourself, you can be that self, here.”  I want 

to go home. 

I need 

to be there. 

I want it to be “here,” 

and NOT a memory.. 

I want to be identified closely with Alabama, the earthy-seat of my deep conversion, baptism, search for identity and.. 

meetingplace of Christopher. 

I love him, and.. to think that 3 months from now, I will be stopping by, Alabama.. I will be driving through, Birmingham.. to say “hello, I love you, goodbye..” and then, go “home” to FLORIDA to work as a waitress and miss him every day, every night.. 

God, what do you want?  Have you put this homesickness in me and created this odd situation with these wacky circumstances to lead me home?  Or is it to tug, pull on my heartstrings and grab, squeeze my mind just enough to strengthen me?  Is there reason to go home?  Is it.. Christopher?  Is it, ministry? Is it school, friends, scenery.. 

is it me?  Is that just where I need to be— the soil that will nourish, and cause to grow?  

Florida sure isn’t doing it.  The page I started on when we moved to Florida is still blank.  Atleast, mine is.. maybe Yours, isn’t.  Just, please, tell me what to do.. show me, and let it be abundantly clear, TOTALLY obvious, so that I’ll know.  

I need to know. I have to understand.   I really don’t like that sunshine state.

-Aun Aqui 

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