I live in a land of eternal summer
where time never passes; it stands
And loneliness holds me with reaffirming glances
While the world keeps turning
Molten rays seep through the horizon
Cascading mirrored, aural shadows across a bitter heavenly desert of snow laden blankets
Ripples of cities break through gashes
And Erie shimmers in depraved distant glee
The volcanic light bursts through the atmospheric crust
Heaping its glowing fire into the sky and clouds below
While unsuspecting peaceful sleepers are unprepared for the explosion of beauty breaking the darkness apart.
When a person feels as though they cannot speak out because they will be ridiculed, is this a pre-emptive silencing?
I wanted to make a post on facebook about how I would prefer if my friends did not post rape jokes because they likely do not know who among their friends may be pushed away from them by such content.
To be blunt: If you make rape jokes I can never trust you and have you as a close friend. If you victim blame, I cannot trust you. If you joke about PTSD from rape not being real, I can never trust you.
Yet, to tell my friends that I fear I would get a response among people I want to trust that would be a backlash of "you're too sensitive" and "I post what I want! It's your choice to let it affect you" and I agree with the second of those statements. I have spent a lot of time on breaking avoidant behaviors and being able to take whatever people throw at me emotionally and physically.
So in the end, I'm silencing myself due to a feared reaction that would then influence my choice to have someone as a friend, afterwhich I would blame myself for the loss because I shouldn't be so "overly-sensitive"
Welcome to the inside of my head.
i've decided to get the lj app on my phone. there have been many times where i wish i could write something then forget to. to an extent i still prefer lj over other "networking" sites because it is much more intimate with a smaller group. we'll see how it goes.
it does make it easier to share happy little things like this.
The lengths of this land
From ocean to ocean
Toes curled into sand
I'm seeking the faces
Of those that see mine
Where home is a feeling
Unbound to unwind
And with each recognition
Each flash of what's real
I reach out to grab it
And forget how to feel
It slips through my fingers
And into the dark
Where names mean nothing
They are simply a farce
And I awaken in silence
Alone in my bed
Unable to ameliorate
These thoughts in my head
There is a Greg shaped hole in my universe.
I think in terms of functions.
I seek out the patterns and transform into equations.
Numbers are not cold:
They are vivid and the great puppets
of Fermi, Erdos, Einstein, Markov, and Peano
[and all the others than come to mind].
These are mere characters in an illusionary world,
Where the plot thickens with each philosophical step
Into the realm between discrete and abstract.
So do not judge what you do not understand:
Mathematical logics are not counted by hand.
This is a world where I can be king,
A living proof of the human concept given anything.