Posted in Artist, deep thoughts, life, writer

Wondering 

Up earlier than I intended to (a spider crawled on me once again). I decided to check some sites. Read some blogs and ponder my days ahead as well as days passed.

I was thrown into a spiritual awakening these past couple of months. I got close to the more mystical side of being INFJ and I filed for a divorce. 

I literally spent the last few months in mental hades.

I thought this guy was more than Mr. Right. I thought that love conquers all and my fairy tale had begun. 

Well the fairy tale is on hold and reality is sketchy at best even on the days I don’t leave this room.

The world isn’t what it seems. I’m a Bruce Wayne in a weird matrix. I’m stuck between who I am and who I should be. The problem is what I want to be and what comes with it doesn’t see eye to eye. 

I struggle with inner conflict. I’m oddly unfocused on anything that I can’t find immediate results in.

I help where greedy hands are reaching into other’s pots. Then chastising me for asking questions. But hell I don’t know anything about that kind of game. Probably because I’m not that kind of person. 

They weren’t ready. 

For someone who’s ideal of happiness to be so simple. 

The world still needs heroes. I’m low on the totem pole of such super humans. 

This life is a gift.

I have a need for direction on how to use mine. However I still tread on into the wilderness of what’s next.

This blog. These words. This episode of my life. Are nothing but sheer mishaps. Accidental. Mistakes that turned into something. 

I haven’t found greatness. I’m not sure if I’m even looking for it. 

I woke up today. Period. 

That in itself was enough. But the pull to do more. Say more. And be more eats at me everyday. Like a nagging mother.

I run from it and it chases me and I dodge it once again. 

My happy go lucky demeanor is appealing to most. Some even fancy my wit and almost brutal tongue lashings. I call it honesty. 

The answers to my thoughts seem far away. 

But time seems to be empting out of my sand. The sands of time is mocking me. And I feel like Alice chasing the rabbit. 

This dimension. This world of art and creativity comes with a price. To enter the gates of gold there is a fee.

I sit outside it wondering if I’m willing to pay.

C.L Cunningham 

Wondering 

Author:

A writer of life. I have two blogs one called Kandee's Corner on mortoit.com. Also the late nite note series on WordPress.

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