Existing

I think you're just supposed to exist as whatever the root of you happens to be.  I've discovered that.  I'm a poet and I don't like that.  I don't like that because it's not what I wish I could be.  I'm not a musician, I'm not a painter, I'm not a singer, I'm not a novelist.. I'm nothing but a poet.

But that's what comes naturally to me.  So while I know I'm going to keep pushing myself to the limits, trying out new forms of expression, I think I always need to remember in the back of my brain that the root of Nicole as a whole is a poet.  That is my duty in life.  My dharma.

Will it ever get me anywhere?  The sad part that burns my heart in half is that no- it probably will never get me fucking anywhere.  But I think I need to accept that and keep creating because that is why my fingers were born onto this planet.  This is why my mom met my dad and ... in the end, nothing really matters anyway.  We are just a finished product, all working together like nuts and bolts and metal and silicone on a mechanical device.  We are all just a big picture.  My details hardly matter.  But that doesn't mean that I shouldn't exist organically as I am.

A lot has changed over the last few months.  I went on a trip to Portland by myself to find myself... only to have found that I was never lost.  But it was a beautiful journey that is merely the beginning.  I am planning a trip to Texas and possibly a trip to Hawaii in 2015.  Portland was a way for me to cultivate the vocabulary that was planted in my head for as long as I can remember.  I'm thankful for my job because it keeps my mind active, pushing me to the limits as far as syntax and diction go.. making me break rules and re-follow them.  Making me learn words and then capture even newer ones as a result.  Put it all together- the traveling, the job, and my inner flowing soul and I've hit the essence of my true poetic self.  I hit the jackpot, it seems.  Like I found the missing puzzle piece and it's time to just create so much that I can hardly find the time to breathe between freshly inked words.

I'm lucky to have found my poetic goldmine.  And I know that I'll lose it one day and I'll go on another journey to find it once again, because that's the way that true talents flow.  You have no control over it.  It controls you.

And I want it to control me.  It's a beautiful thing to merely exist.  While I did feel like a dead, soulless body being dragged around by merciless life since April of this year, now I realize that it was all apart of the machine.  To create this whole, I had to be dragged. And I'm thankful that I was.