Thousands of feet off the earth, This starry, peaceful night. Wind at our back, love ahead, This peaceful flight. Passing golden roads, crystal seas Moving in unison Beneath our very feet. Straddled in the air, Dangling from an invisible string. You’re rested against my shoulder, Both of us partaking in this atmospheric dream.
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Why do we work out? Why do we train? Why do we sweat, puke, cry, and everything else in between. We work on our ‘diets’ [meaning what we eat, not how we eat], stare in the mirror, stand on the scale [every-so-often], and dream about tomorrow.
Some say health. Some say to prove a point. Some will just say that want to lose weight.
In the end though; we want to be visually appealing.
It’s a fact that the subconscious to anyone would boastfully or ashamedly admit. It’s our nature to be physically appealing, in hopes of appealing to an individual, or in other words…
Being skinny was hot, love handles were not, and the list can go on about what our culture [and underground culture] have declared attractive, unattractive, and in between.
"Modest is hottest", I heard a girl in church say, trying to breathe from her skin-tight polo.
We’ve created a societal blunder of attempting to incorporate one set design to all the chess pieces on the table. The reality is that we are pawns, kings, queens, and knights in the wind. We’re merely unique by our own design. Yes, we can lose to fat, shed the calories, and boost the heart. We can gather the gear, lace up the shoes, and attempt to ‘kick asphalt’ down the road, but in the end our inner being still suffices to taunt the ever perplexing, thought invoking idea in our mere little minds; do we ever really change?
I can only use myself as an example, as I’m still uncomfortable in my own skin.
Let’s be honest for a moment, I’ve looked in the mirror, I’ve seen one or two ladies bat a second glance. I’ll never say I’m attractive, but I will say there are far worse things out there.
I’ve shed fifty pounds since this time last year. I run like crazy because not only do I find it morbidly fun [disturbing], but because when I don’t, I become paranoid. Absolutely terrified about becoming ‘fat’, going back to dark days of my life. But when I sit back and contemplate the thoughts of ‘going back’, it isn’t just the fear associated with being physically unfit, it’s the revelation of acknowledging that at that point in my life, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, in the eyes of the one person I loved; I wasn’t good enough.
I bust by body daily, attempting to tell myself I’m good enough. I puke up garbage on cold January mornings [today] because I tell myself that I can rise above, that I am better, that I can be greater. It isn’t just about that whole nutty Olympic concept, it’s merely being comfortable in my skin.
I’m sitting here, drinking my favorite drink at the local Starbucks, wearing a leather jacket, Oakley sunglasses, driving gloves, jeans, and a polo. Yet, with that said, I can look in the mirror and still pose the question, “What else can I work on?”
Be weary of such inflammatory and wandering of the mind. As I’m still trying to accept it myself, the same poses true to so many that run and work in the way I do; even if someone accepts you for you; you still have to overcome you.
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Sleep begins to overtake me, Eyelids growing weak. Few moments of far reflections Rush for one to see. Through the night’s temptations Of quiet slumber’s eve. I merely wish of two things for you. Stay beautiful. Stay free.
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Good morning beautiful, Welcome to God’s greatest gift. Breath in His love, May your soul seemingly lift. As you dive into presents, Shiny, exciting, and new. Hundreds of miles away, I’m thanking God for you. May your Christmas be blessed; Friends and family near. My only wish this new day; To grow our friendship stronger, With every passing year.
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With embarassing bliss,
I wish to remind you of a dream.
Where I fell in love with you,
With just a gentle kiss.
Staring off into eternity,
Listening strictly to the blood pumping through my heart.
How fate was so foolish to us,
Attempting to keep us apart.
Polarized through cultures transparencies,
Gravity was no match for these set souls.
Ripped through time’s expectations,
Never giving up, never resting.
It was in that small, bright room,
Sun glowing along this beautiful frame.
The final piece was moved,
Our hearts won; checkmate.
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You are a spiritual epiphany. A surreal symphony of grace and class…
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I thought I met you today,
Strolling through the the leaves.
I believed that I saw you,
Walking with out-stretched wings.
Peeking through limbs
Of these wondering trees,
I reached for a closer look.
You, I had to see.
Suddenly; like a rush,
My delusion, you, came before me,
You’re merely a thought,
Only a dream.
I thought I met you today,
Only to be shown in the end,
You were only a lost thought.
Caught up in the wind.
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I’ve lost my weight. I’m at my ideal weight. I’m eating better [not perfect]. I’ve got this stupidly, wonderful job. I’m traveling to New England in January [I don’t get out much]. I’m seeing my best friend in March [you don’t understand the magnitude of that]. I’m making more money then I’m spending.
I even have money for a haircut [a rarity just a year ago].
My mile times are getting destroyed. The clothes fit looser. The treadmill starts on speed 10.0.
It’s all rubbish.
I’m so grateful for all the garbage that has been overcome, the goals that have been shattered, and the miles that have been ran.
I feel ugly.
Not so much in the sense of being fat, or needing to loose more weight; just tha constant battle of feeling unwanted. Unfortunately, like a bad breakup, a divorce leaves you with some nasty, unseen scars. Personally, I think I handled the brunt of all that garbage rather smoothly, but there is still something to be said about feeling like you’re not good enough.
Ladies; help me out here. Let’s be honest, I don’t sleep around [even if I wanted to, I couldn’t…], that’s not who I am, nor who I will ever be. I get attached way too easily. Now tell me this, is it true that you enjoy being called ‘beautiful’? The reason I ask, is that when I’ve said that [and meant it], it was met with silence…bitter, awkward silence.
So, please clarify this.
Do you want to hear that you’re beautiful?
Do you want the attractive man you dream about to call you beautiful?
I must admit that I’m just rather irriated with the notion of wearing my emotions on my sleeve [that’s just my chemical ID], being the hopeless [and clueless] romantic, and being used and tossed aside [yes, it does go both ways].
I live in a town where I’m the only twenty something year old. The same can be said for the church I attend [don’t hate]. Not to mention I’m the youngest employee by a balmy…14 years. I’m just in that awkward stage.
I don’t do bars. I don’t do clubs. No condemnation over here, just not what I grew up with. Someday’s I feel very isolated.
And then when someone just tosses me to the side after they’re “done with me”. It kind of makes the night a little longer.
Yes, this is merely an entry of me just whining. A twenty four year old male, a college graduate, and a divorce dude. Just whining because I see the couples cuddle in the coffee shop and merely wonder…simply…
…will I ever?
…eyes gaze merely on the physical attributes, but visual apparatus of the soul dwells on the treasures of your heart..
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