Guns and Butterflies

This post has absolutely no point. I simply want to write.

Meet Olga-- a 22 rifle with a butterfly named Chloe. Yes, for a summer I shot guns named after girls and had a pet butterfly. I was actually quite good at shooting.. I once duct taped a plastic bat to a target and shot it straight through the heart. I'm sure its still floating around somewhere because I'm kind of a hoarder when it comes to those kinds of memories. I spent hours upon hours in December scrapbooking my life from the past year. To the point where it was almost an obsession. Now that I'm done, I don't even know who would look at the books. But it kept me busy. It kept my thoughts quiet for a couple hours each night. I've discovered over the past couple months that I can find a lot more truth in my subconscious than my conscious state of mind. Consciously I have mostly come to accept the reality of my life. I force myself to act the way I know is probably best and keep my mouth shut when needed but it is my dreams that show me that I'm still not entirely well. I sleep to escape only to find my escape to be even more honest. Honesty is such an interesting thing.. as much as I want to spill out so many questions and comments and thoughts I have and be as honest as possible, I am still trying to figure out how to be honest with myself. After all, isn't that what I have control over? Myself. While I can't change circumstances, I can always change myself. And that's what I'm living on right now-- that as I figure out who I want to become and take on the courage to be that person, that circumstances will change. I fight my flight reaction every single day because I have just enough left tethering me down here that I'm afraid of ripping it away. Plus, flight will not change my circumstances or hand me a step by step guide to perfection-- it will only put more distance and a few layers of dust. Better to take things head on, right? I agree. I love the idea of big black trash bags. They absolutely terrify me, yet I find so much release in them. Let me explain-- just as my room is cluttered with junk, so is my life and my thoughts. I'm uneasy about the idea of tossing so many things in a black hole, but for the most part, they're rubbish. As uncomfortable as the process may be, how wonderful is that feeling when your room is suddenly neat and free? And that's what I want for my life. I want to take a trash bag to it so that after I get rid of all the cluttered waste that I have been holding onto purely for security, I will be able to see my focuses. And at that point I will slam my foot on the accelerator and be internally free-- eliminating the strain caused by my desire to flee.