This all just came right out...

At some point, over the last couple weeks, I felt my mind slipping. Every once in a while a spike on the right side of my head, all the way down to the back of my eye or a stomach issue that that ends with a collapsible body. And I've been just confused. Looking and analyzing as much of what is happening in my life as possible and not seeing a discernible pattern. Well, maybe that's speaking a little too soon. There are things that do make sense, possibly. The stomach aches like I used to have in elementary and middle school are a singular example of that. ...well, actually, maybe some of the ache, the ones all over, are consistent with spiritual difficulties. A lack of teaching, prayer, specific, positive thoughts. The things that generally keep my going. It's just not that simple. It can't be. As I attempt to move passed those things I realize more. That I really miss Lindsey. Miss sitting around, feeling uneffected by the world and catching up on episodes of Lost while talking about our spiritual, emotional, and physical states. That her chiropractor believes she needs to eat more foods with trace minerals and after my session with Julie (the intuitive) something similar was brought up. There would be a level of release. Not completely unlike the gentleman who was just in the washroom and his gross moans of urination, but above all a feeling of connection, one that I don't necessarily feel with most people. A conversation of unrelenting truths and love and self reflective analysis.

So, I sit here, several hours after beginning to write this, wondering, still, how I might be able to avail myself of the stresses, and I remember that not long ago I wrote about the futility of focusing, stressing about the things we cannot change. Then, reality snaps back and I realize that those things aren't what are the real issue. Not even close, in fact. My problem rests in those issues, those problems that I do have, but refuse to make attempts on correcting. Those I've created for myself. Tombs or crypts for my head to live. But, dammit, I ain't dead yet.

Now rests the need to find motivation. to reuncover modes of recognition, acceptance, and conquering; also, to ease myself down as my penmanship is disintegrating as I write, like I'm running out of time, but I'm not; I'm free. Then, I can do something beneficial and worth while and awesome.

Here's looking for the push! Also, for my cellphone to call Dad and Lindsey, and vomit out rainbows of joy (eww) and frustration (also, eww).