When Repetition is More Than Flattery

Yeah, so it goes along that repetition is the sincerest form of flattery (though I think it was more mimicry that was being referred to in that phrase, I mean, if you ask me, but be that as it may or may not be), but sometimes repetition is much more. Sometimes it is exercise, driving home a lesson for the mind as much as reps drive the muscles into a frenzied state of disarray that forces them to rebuild or die and in rebuilding, become stronger and more reliable. Consistency of action and personality makes people stronger and more reliable. That is why I am here. That is why I repeat myself. That is why I continue to write the same subjects over and over, again and again trying to find the words that express it better, that express me better. I may never find the perfect words that share exactly who I am, but I hope I never stop trying because the day I stop trying is the day I die.

I kept it hid once and it taught me that death is better than doing it again. I do not want to die. But sometimes life just seems so challenging and thank goodness something like this comes out...

Sometimes I feel oh... yes, sometimes I feel like I've been tied to a whipping post. So much betrayal, so much abandonment, so much fear in this life. Even those with the purest hearts and best of intentions will sometimes want to squash me, suppress me, silence me when all I want to do in this life is sing out loud and proud and free and open and honest about all I feel and think and do and am. I am so sad to think that sharing honest love and unconditional trust can feel like pain to anyone. For me, holding back, hiding, letting time go by not giving the dream my all is like dying.

And I wailed in the night to anyone who cared...

let me be who I am...

and please please please let me love again.

Sadly, I must accept that many are gone (so many more in their own private gardens that have not breathed in my ear in decades) and even sadder, some who are not gone would rather be gone and forgotten. I am so very sorry it hurts to be here with me and I shall do my best to be as obscure as I can be - but love is the opening door... I'll leave you out of it as challenging as that may be when I just want to shout from rooftops

thank you for being, for caring, for inspiring me to believe in love and continue nurturing what little hope I have left that my dreams really can come true in this life.

Shhhh...

I am trying to understand, trying so hard to resist my nature, to understand the fears, and hoping my maze obscures my defiance enough to amuse or console enough so I can continue living my dream of sharing everything with respect for privacy. If this is a baffling entry, then I may have succeeded. My hope is you are amused at the lengths I will take to compromise even as it may drive us to madness (gleefully, I hope).

I still find, to my delight and chagrin, that I cannot, dare not, will not leave the dream behind. Even if it is all just an illusion.

But nobody heard... . . and that is the real.

Narf.

For in the rambling words and musical accompaniments (click and listen and hear the words if you really want to begin to scratch the surface of knowing me at my core... and then continue reading and listening and ask for more) I find myself and peace and security and all I could ever be. Sleep does not come, rest doesn't exist when I am holding back in any way.

I hope you understand, everyone.