It has come to pass that I have bared too much.
I can no longer continue in this way as I delve for self rediscovery. Sometimes, I don't even recognize myself as I continue to search for me. I am trapped in a fun house of insecurity, self-revision, and pain. Yet, things so precious, so sacrosanct, so vitally important to me draw me back and guide the way. In these moments I feel whole again. And hopeful.
I can no longer see the forest through the trees and am wondering if it even matters. What's wrong with just being with the trees? A part of the trees; the ambiance, the rustle of leaves and smell of bark, the crunch underfoot. Just fucking be.
It is no longer acceptable to me to feel this way and be so public about it. I feel raw and exposed. I feel pushed around and vulnerable. I feel like a perpetrator and a victim of unadulterated selfishness and ego; mine.
I am calling bullshit. On myself.
Therefore, it is no longer congruent with my heart to share it with so many. It belongs to one man, one boy, one family only. I am honoring that.
[Ed. notes: That is to say, less sharing. I'm still gonna be here. I'm thinking less yapping, more photos, and shit. You know, lighter fare.]