Rebekah (Chocoboodle)'s Blog (10)

It is interesting to me that in most cases it takes a death to revive a life, that it takes pain to remind of pleasure, and that it takes loss to show what is had. We go through life so wrapped up in trivial matters, that we take the most important things for granted. Don't we realize that our breath is not our own? Can't we see that we are living not on our own time? It frustrates me that I only stop to re-evaluate my life when I'm met with devastating situations.…

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Your words are puppets. They dance before my eyes and mimick the movements of your body.

I've always been afraid of puppets, the way they twist and bend and hide what is inside.



Your words are the roots of a rosebush. They puncture and strangle, manipulating the soil that is my perception.

I've always hated roses, the way they wither and die despite honor and care.



Your words are ice. They turn cold those that draw near, and melt when exposed.

I've always… Continue

I saw a crow 

in the middle of the road,

hopping and skipping and jumping.

A car drove by,

I told the bird to "fly!"

but all that it did was nothing. 

It fluttered there,

A little unaware, it's

feathers untamed and wild.

The crow didn't budge

so I figured I'd trudge

Back to my house like a child.

Have you ever been so far gone that when you finally look up from your poorly drawn map, you realize you have no idea where you are?

Have you ever been so deep underground that the pressure alone makes it hard to breathe?

Have you ever been so wrapped up in somebody's presence that when they leave, you feel as though they took the most important parts of you?

Have you ever loathed these feelings? Have you ever loved them?

I am in what you might call uncharted…

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We are all detectives in our own way. We infer and deduct based on prior knowlege and experiences. We solve puzzles, create riddles, and come up with our own answers to seemingly unanswerable questions. We take what we see, and form conclusions to suit our beliefs about the unknown. We think we're so smart.

But we're not.

They say one definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Human beings do this all…

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Today I have decided not to write a blog post.

 

Cheerio!

I hate going to the doctor. I hate every thing about it.

 

I hate the smell.

I hate the sounds.

I hate waiting in the waiting room for my name to be called.

I hate sitting on the bench in the tiny little doctor's room.

I hate anticipating.

 

But most of all I hate being a new patient at a strange place, with strange doctors and strange nurses who don't know me or my history. It all feels very weird to me, to trust someone who knows so …

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Imagine this for one moment, will you?

It's a foggy morning on the street -no signs of life to be seen. Then suddenly, through the fog, two figures emerge. Standing directly in the middle of the sidewalk, about one-hundred yards away, the figures become more clear. You begin to see their details. The figures are aged women, slightly hunched over -one black, one white --both wearing sunhats. They stand there amidst the fog in their long floral skirts, and look around as if…

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Have you ever broken a promise?

I want you to think back on a time where you crossed pinky fingers with someone in order to solidify a previous agreement -where you gave your word via the phrase "I pinky swear". Think really hard.

 

Now think, did you end up keeping that oh-so-dear promise? Did you break it?

 

I ask because yesterday I made a promise. I swore to write a blog everyday about mythical happenings and events in my completely entertaining life.…

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Well, I've finally been pulled in by the lure of the ever popular blog. So many people I know swear by them, so I decided to take a leap of faith -so to speak- and dive into the vast growing network of blogging.

So, my question is this: Will I find blogging a necessary tool in my everyday life? Will it become a sort of natural reaction to my daily events (much like laughing, crying, or even breathing already are)? Or, will I find the act of blogging in-and-of itself to be…

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