The tune of my soul is sort of psychodelic and atmospheric which makes the whole song orgasmic and that’s what I look for in music, music for me has always been a kind of drug which can take over your brain making the reality more bereable for the duration of the song ( at least).
I usually keep this part of myself locked tightly in the box in the corner of my mind. This part should remain open because it’s a vital piece of my Inner- Self and the Inner- Self is mainly who I really Am- the Inner- Self is my unscattered soul. I have conformed to the rules of society to stay afloat in order to survive and build a fort which would protect me from people who don’t understand me. My soul is wild and relies on the artistic stimulants, it craves nature, looks for the meaning of life which resides in Buddhism, it misses howling wolves in the deep dark wild woods, the true home is out there in the middle of greenery covered with the blanket of dew drops among the crimson red twigs which joyfully pierce my shattered soul preparing it for eternal rest where it belongs.
I find therapeutic to release the images from my imagination in order to stay sane. It helps me to relax, it also inspires me to remain creative.
My mind is rebelling today, I feel like l a baloon which is carried by an evil ant with a wide grin on her face. My body hurts, my mind feels tender, if I could I would snuggle up in my bed.
I’ve chosen to be mindful.
I’m going to tackle chores and tasks one by one today. I compare it to weaving a mersmerising rug with the most thin and delicate threads. You don’t want to loose any of them so you shift your focus slowly from one thread to another until the masterpieve is completed.
Speak wisely, don’t let your words to become a shambolic sewage waste coming out of your own mouth.
Struck by a pre- emptive strike of sorrow derived from anxiety & panic medley I shall stand proud and withstand the shallow tide.
Pamper your soul with a dosage of daily relaxing time only for you and your Inner-self. Feel free to immerse yourself in the silliest activity.
Who cares if it involves stuffing your face with whipped cream or just blankly staring at your cat to the point of making him uncomfortable. Just be free of judgmental guilt and twisted worries.
I see flowers on a bed made of snow. It’s not so clear and a little bit blurry due to the picture being taken in a rush. It has its charm which cosely and safely lives in its own self-perception.
Here I am again….
I am stuck at work.
I keep thinking about Friday because I’m convinced that the mighty Creator of the Universe has lost it or at least misplaced it. I’m talking gibberish but why oh why the weekend doesn’t last three days instead of two. Two days are nothing – you can’t even go to explore the surrounding territory because you are overloaded with chores.
Oh my sweet life and its straining routine there is still some mesmerising beauty in you which won’t vanish in distant time.
Routine is good, it keeps us organised and sane to some extent – ha ha ha ☺
Thoughts are chasing me
I run as fast as I can
I keep myself occupied
I read tons of books
I perform an exorcism on them
Nothing silences my thoughts so I live with them in peace.