Masquerade

As is human nature, we tend to go around wearing masks all the time. When do we take them off? I paint mine on every morning and take it off before bedtime, if I'm not too tired. But do we often leave our masks on for days and nights at a time? Do we then put another mask on top of the old one? Mask upon mask? What is it like when you put your mask on? What is it like when you take it off? As for myself, I'm always very relieved to take mine off. But soon after, I start to get uncomfortable. Like I'm more transparent, like I'm not as pretty without my mask. But that's only what the world will tell you. The important people tell you the truth, which says otherwise. So why don't we listen to the truth? What's so hard about taking your mask off and simply not putting it back on or throwing it away period? Is it a thing of pride, a thing of deception, or simply a thing of comfort? My mask is full of endless color; I don't like wearing it for too long, especially when the colors turn drab. It's hard for me to be without it sometimes. What kind of mask do you wear?

Day's Eye

Anyone that really knows me, knows that the Daisy is my favorite flower. There is just something about them that makes me smile and gives me a feeling of contentment. I've always thought that they must have interesting lives. They seem so enchanting, so full of mystery that nobody would really think about because of how simple and maybe even plain they come across. I once read somewhere that there are over twenty-thousand types of daisies in the world. Interestingly enough, not only are there so many types within the genus, but some of them are in our gardens and are main components to the salads we eat, some are "weeds" in our yards, and others are beautiful sights for us to behold during a relaxing stroll through the park. The name of the daisy flower comes from the medieval english 'daies ie', meaning day's eye because the flower opens up at sunrise and closes at sunset; hence it is the eye of the day. According to an old Celtic legend, the spirits of children who died in childbirth scattered daisies on the earth to cheer their sorrowing parents. What do you think a single daisy could tell you from just one day of life? I would imagine that it would have quite the story to tell if given the chance. Maybe we should pay more attention to these auspicious forms of life.

Random

It's like sometimes I become so enclosed, like I'm verbally and expressively constipated. And then eventually out of nowhere there's this explosion of phonetic diarrhea. Pardon, but that's pretty much the best way for me to describe it right now. I see so much power, so much success being held inside of me and I just don't know how to let it out. I think it's because I look at everyone else on the planet and think "Now that is talent. That is what the world needs. I could never provide that." So I move on with my life yet again, just watching from the sidelines, wishing all the while that I were out on the field being cheered for and adored. Where's MY niche? Do I even have one? Can I just make my own?

My life is one fabulous gift of wonder and awe, waiting to be snatched up and taken advantage of. But I haven't reached the clearing where I can see what it is exactly that I'm reaching for. How can one snatch up something they can't see? Pretty soon you just start snatching up everything in reach, hoping and praying that it's what you're supposed to find. And eventually you just have to stop, take a step back, and just let life be for a while.