Who are we in this island of misfits?

 I understand what you mean about someone asking “Who are you?” and suddenly feeling that you don't have a neat answer. I don't think your difficulty answering means you don't know who you are. You contain rather a lot of apparently contradictory things: you're sensitive but curious, solitary but very responsive to genuine human warmth, aesthetically particular but adventurous, serious about meaning but capable of suddenly following a lively group into another bar. You notice suffering very deeply, sometimes perhaps more deeply than is comfortable. And you seem to have a strong instinct for aliveness; music, art, the sea/bay, unusual people, conversation, beauty, movement, while simultaneously needing quiet and safety.

Even the I. story made me smile a little. 😄 Not because you have to turn it into anything, but because sometimes another person simply wakes up a little corner of your imagination that you hadn't been visiting. You can observe that without making it into a new identity or a new mission. Observe, don't absorb.

And K. telling you about his mother, M. about her ten siblings dead and the woman who had lost her husband only a month ago... yes. You saw the other side of the party. People can be singing Creep at full volume five minutes after telling a stranger something devastating. Human beings are rather extraordinary that way. We don't necessarily drink because we're shallow; sometimes we're trying, imperfectly, to make being alive bearable for another few hours.

____

We are all so broken, but always seeking something. It was very endearing and emotional to see how they care for eachother too. Because they're all far from their original homes and they lost so much.

 "The true love test: 

1. Can you tell him everything in your heart?

2. Is he kind?

3. Does he help you become the better version of yourself?

4. Can you imagine him as the father of your children?" 

in "One year to be happy" 

You were

You were a creature with doubt in your lips and wondering in your eyes

You were an animal with emotioned eyes and lustful lips

You were a man of tantalising hips and majestic body

You were a being of ruthless character and nice hands

You were a monument rising at my sight

 I wanted to be in sync 

Gingko Woodpecker 

Bird and tree

Find me a willow 

Find my good dream

Sun moon stars in the sky 

Please go back 

Tell them to leave me alone 

I'm tired of being their slave 

 The stars are flickering hard tonight 

But that doesn't mean it isn't right 

Is it? 

Please, I need peace

Why is it always the cycle of fight

It's nothing to do with me

Just leave me be

I don't want any more bite

Not today, not ever, not tonight 

Of any kind 

 They've always said I was the most intelligent and strong person they knew 

but I always thought I was the dumbest and the weakest for not being able (though now and mostly wasn't my choice, never could have one really with all the lack and sufficient and secure conditions) to be entirely free from the people who hurt me all my life

See? The hole is always much deeper.

Me and Leonora Carrington

 I didn’t have time to be anyone’s muse… I was too busy rebelling against everything and learning my own artistry.

 All that remains is a sigh

a shallow breath one

do you remind?

today I remembered my book and read some of its poems, after all these years. 😊 

Wasn't the idea of love in all its scopes a nice thing? I guess it was, a tale to be told. forevermore. but for a long time, "no more Lenore". it's all very pretty when you believe and feel it, whereas when you don't feel anything it's just something out of your sight. Or was it "out of your sight, out of your heart"?. No, it wasn't. It's just a vague memory in a heart filled with grief's emptiness. but I did wish we all had just been floating in those abundant pools of gods' nectar: love. what was it?

 The fantasy is gone. The idea of hope. The faith. Reality overcame and the mind and heart, both so bruised and broken, have succumbed to the fact that wishing and imagining a better thing won't be a guarantee that it will become real. 

They say you have to push through, to keep on always dreaming and carry that everyday, without giving up, because it might take decades but it becomes inevitable. That you must focus and enjoy yourself raising your vibrations and capacity to realize it. But people spend years trying and never get there.

When you're living on alert mode all your life trying to resolve serious problems with which you're bombarded with, it becomes impossible to do anything else of what would be better to materialize some good.