Linen Wolf

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CLARITY

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Down in the basement

There's this man. He's got a nice job and a nice house, but no one to really share it with. Everyday he comes home from work he goes to his basement. A normal enough thing to do, but his basement is different. The lights are red. It's loud down there. It's madness down there. He doesn't take part in it, he doesn't stop it either. He just sits there, observing, freely amongst his thoughts. He can barely hear the outside world, and the outside world can barely hear him. He always hears loud knocking at the door, but he never gets it. He moves to a seat deeper into the room, but he can still hear the knocking. He keeps moving but he can't ignore the knocking. So, he finally gives up. He answers the door and leaves for work.

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not my best medium, but it is what it is. this is how i see people sometimes

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The pick pocket

He wakes up just like he would any other day. After all, today isn't special. Brushes his teeth--though he doesn't plan on smiling. Picks out an outfit--though he doesn't plan on seeing anyone or standing out. Lonely. He's a pick pocket, a thief--though I'm not sure what he steals. Some days it's red, others it's orange. Every now and again it's yellow. He has enough of the greens and blues and purples. Though I don't know what he takes, I know he always brings it home and places it all around. Probably renovating. I'm not sure though, just painting the picture.

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It’s all yours, be my guest

If you want it, take it. Because this shit isn’t pretty. It isn’t always being sad…I wish I could be sad. This is the absence of feeling, of caring. I can’t sleep, even though I’m exhausted. I’m not hungry, no matter how little I’ve eaten. I can’t enjoy a moment, no matter how precious it is. I can’t enjoy my passions, no matter how important they are to me because what the fuck is the point? I’m numb. I’m stuck in this absence of feeling. Over a year. It’s been worse, but it never gets better. You can’t see it, but that’s because you don’t look. The mask is broken. I can’t reach out, no matter what you say or tweet, because I tell myself you can’t take it. I fear you won’t take it. I can’t connect. I want to try, but I know I can’t handle the pain of failure. I sit in a dark room with one light and can’t get myself to find the door to leave. I deal, each day. But every day is a challenge just to make it by. I cling to whatever gives me traction and hope that it’s enough.

So, if you want it, take it. Please. But I know you don’t. The truth is different than what they paint it out to be.

Linen Wolf

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Look at Me

I like you, a lot. So let me be upfront with you. I am broken. It doesn’t look like it, I know. Every morning I put my mask on, and every night it breaks off. This truth is something I don’t share, but is also something that haunts me. I’m desperate for someone to share this with, to talk to. I need someone to share this with, to talk to. But each time I try, the pain of the rejection just makes the feeling worse. My fear is that my experiences will force me to close myself, myself, off from the world and lead me someplace from where I can’t return. That same fear seems to push people away without even pronouncing itself. Every day gets scarier.

Linen Wolf

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The Man Outside the Store

A man is standing in front of a store with a glass door. Behind this door is something that the man want most in this world, but he doesn’t open. Passer-by sees this man every day and always ask each other why he doesn’t simply open the door to get the thing that he wants most in this world. To them the solution is obvious. But what they don’t know is that the man has gone to many stores whose doors and stores may look a little different but nonetheless all have the thing that the man wants most in this world. At each of those stores the man has tried to walk in and get it, but all he is met with is pain. He used to brush it off and go on to the next store, but the more pain he endured the harder it got to open the door. This continued until he told himself that it’d be best to admire the thing he wanted most in the world from afar, from the outside.

Linen Wolf

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texture. came after a rain. also, my posts will probably slow down for a little bit. working on something new about the 9 types of intelligence. I'm excited to start on it as soon as possible!

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you want to go back to being friends.?  as if we ever were. you and i were nothing more than intimate strangers. physical. empty. no emotions shared. what sucks is that you were the one that made it clear to me.

my heart of hearts

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wish we could actually see the world like this

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found this sign in my garage earlier and knew it was the perfect subject for this post – even better, it had just finished raining. it’s almost poetic that it’s prettiest outside just after it rains. so, there must be something to look forward to after you’ve been hurt. and once you find that thing, whatever it is, you’ll be better off than you were before.

so tell me, how can we be just friends? we were never friends. strangers that became something more and then strangers again. now that I think about it, you were always a stranger to me..even though I opened myself up to you. repeatedly.

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I couldn't pick just one. luckily, I don't have to. it's surprising how undervalued something as diverse as the sky is....unless the sun is setting, of course.

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Real.

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best part about the water if you ask me