Fragmented Reflections…

In_a_dark_place_by_moonchild_ljilja deviantart

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Identity fragmented into thousands of reflections…
Who she was…
Who she is…
Who she will be…
Lost in the myriad of pieces that together make one whole…
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Fractured time…

Shattered soul…

Rebuilding….

Visceral renovation…

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Looking back…

Retracing steps of Memory’s journey…

Rumination of events leading to present…

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She cries out from the conflicted chaos born from bringing the past to the present…

That girl, long abandoned…fervently seeking to find her place…

In this time…she cannot be…

Her time has come and gone…

Leaving me to forge a path to future…

Where I will also cease to be…

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For in the future…

Indomitable change will come yet again….

Inevitably…I will become the girl crying out…

From the past….

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    ΅〜 ೋ  Christina〜  ೋ 〜΅

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It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.”
΅〜 Edgar Allan Poe 〜΅

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Gorgeous photo by moonchild Ljilja ~

My Very Essence…

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writing roses

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  I write because I love words…

More than that…

I am utterly infatuated, fascinated, increasingly enamored with them…

their ability to express anything and everything one would desire…

 So very many decadently delightful and exquisitely evocative ways…

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I write to release pent up thoughts…emotions, hopes, fears, dreams…

Endless expressions of me…

Who I am…why I am…where I wish to go in this journey of life…

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Not only is writing my catharsis, it is unceasingly shaping me…

I quite literally am writing myself into who I am…

who I am becoming…who I will be…

My personal revolution…

A metamorphosis via a plethora of beloved words…

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If you wonder why I write..the above is the best answer I’m able to give you…

Perhaps that also explains why I write so often of the inability to

express words exactly how or when I would wish…

To put words to the vague…the intangible…the elusive…

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Some people call it writer’s block…

I call it amputation…

Without my beloved words…

I lose myself…my voice…my very essence…

I am only as unique as the words I choose…

The emotions…the feelings conjured by their purposeful placement.

It is my insistent compulsion to continually do so in ever more very varied ways…

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You need look no further…

For this is who I am…wholly and completely me…

To be found…

In each word I write…

~

΅~ ೋ ೋ ~΅

΅〜 ೋღ  Christina~ ღೋ     〜΅

   

Sir Reality…

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woman desert roses

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He whispers through my dreams….

He paints pictures of future happiness and joy…

He molds each new vision carefully to show me just enough to elicit hope…

Never enough for illumination….

He whispers…”The time has come sweet child…you must gather your past pieces and pack them up…store them in your heart and your soul….

for now it is time for the beginning of the next chapter of your life.”

He takes my hand in his…warm and secure…

walking confidently to the future…

I feel comforted by his presence…his words….his guidance…I am not afraid.

We stop walking…..

I turn to him and look into his eyes questioningly…”Are we here?”

He answers softly…”Yes .”

He kisses my hand, releases it and begins to walk away.

“Wait…”

The fear of the unknown bearing down on me suddenly….

”What am I supposed to do now?”

He smiles a knowing smile which inconceivably puts me at ease once more.

“Now my sweet child…

You’ve left the past in the past….this is your future…go…live it….

shine brightly for you are loved.”

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christina signature b&w

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Copyright © Christina Brownlee 2012