The Willow Tree


Perhaps I meant the lilac tree, and losing myself underneath it, on a cold damp night. It’s cold, and I felt it as I biked home in my wonderfully loose and light summer clothes. Playing with the night air. I remembered a nightmare I had this week as I avoided riding through the cemetery, I was lucky, and there was no lion waiting for me at the gate, speaking in tongues.

I feel like learning for me is the most slow and grueling process to endure, and in the mean time I continue to lead myself down wrong paths. Albeit, better than paths chosen before, but wrong for me all the same. With every new choice toward the better future, an old habit remains to remind me of how far I have to go.

That image is of a mango, I suppose. It’s incredibly hard for me to get into this again, all the stupid walls I’ve built over the years need to be deconstructed in order for new progress to happen. Everyday seeing that I have to keep my mind open, and believe every little step forward helps. How do we get over our failures though? The only moments I feel sure that it’s ok are while working on art, every other second of the day is a failure, and every memory is a mistake, and a joke.

My only hope is that love will carry me on in a way that helps me from myself. Myself which is the only true joy, but the most lonely and complicated.

And so I leave you with, Brittney Spears, “The stars in the sky, make me feel, not alone.”


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