Sea Or Ocean. Painter: Lionel Walden.

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider Press Conference, 2001

For a season, a reason, unpleasing, and ever so lesion. Rather write it down than act it out.

my mind is full of flowers, dreams, gentlemen and ethereal ladies

Angelina Jolie by Michel Bourquard; 1994

𝐈𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧—

Lonely thoughts of yesterday— will come back to haunt you. Memories of the future, will creep in. Isolation, desolation —captivation. These shall be of things that you can be proud of. You may not be alone, but you are still alone.

And where does the soul reside? Where do you think it lives? What kind of environment do you think it thrives in? Would you say it thrives in solitude? Or perhaps when we're abandoned? That doesn’t sound like a very satisfying answer. But what about when we're completely isolated? We've become so lonely. We've become so disconnected from ourselves. Do we need this much silence? We lose sight of the beauty around us— the beauty in us. And what happens when there isn't enough of ourselves around to remind us? When there aren't any voices left to tell us otherwise?

In solitude; alone, then you may feel like your loneliness is overwhelming. Or does it us the strength to face loneliness and still be happy? To exist is hard. You need energy, a soul—find it, in isolation.

First one. Won't be the last.

To give, receive, and accept love; all of it. Only I wish to embrace all parts of love. That love that bleeds from awkwardness to gush. I want the love that will sometimes kick my ass and beat me into submission.

My aggressive words define how I intend to walk the shallow, narrow, sharp, and smooth trails of life. I'll plunge in headfirst and stay until I figure out whether I want the thing or not. Not wanting something...is rare for me.

You never meet someone as greedy, hardheaded, bubbly, dark and soft as me? Chill on that. To whom am I writing this? Me? Okay, yeah, that's fine. I'm still in that phase of being more ‘me’ and less ‘it.’

It's a Monday, so I am in full throttle mode of talking to myself. How often do I talk to myself that I must jot it down and read it as if...it wasn't me. Oh, dear God...ha. Anyway, yeah... I'm made for love-I can be that.

“I’ve learned people are made of layers and sometimes you have to wait until the next one is revealed.”

— @sixwordssayitall

—3/30-’

The tension battle within oneself is hard to comprehend. How does one separate themselves from metaphorical clips of things that haven't occurred yet? Is this all anxiety-ridden? Has the subconscious taken over?

I believe it is consciously acceptable to be happy and understand unknown emotions. Naiveté is damaging. Being happy implies accepting naiveté. It is not comforting at all. I rather believe that being naive is damaging.

So right now, I have no idea what to do, but I'm still happy. I don't know where to go, but I'm still happy. I am in the abyss of ‘it hasn't happened...but it might’—but I'm happy. I'm happy that I can acknowledge where I am.

Xoxo— Angel.

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒.