Confessional.

Confessions.
There are over fifty thousand and one things that one might have to say about fifty thousand and one things and people. But does one dare all the time? No. Does one care all the time? Maybe.
There are these weird feelings in the heart...stomach, actually that sort of strangely try and breathe down your conscience. I, for one, am always escaping from taking responsibility for my actions, emotions and words. Ah. All the words. Most, anyway.

It sucks that very little can be done about the things i do, consciously and otherwise, that later annoy the fuck out of me for being so completely out of place. For being so completely not thought through.
No. I am no deceiver or fraud. I don't commit murders and lie about them. In fact, I hardly ever lie. Really. What, however, i truly seek, is the power and ability of Acceptance. This isn't so much about accepting other people with their abundance of flaws and perfections; this is more about having enough courage to take the call of acceptance of self and feel. Feel things that i don't want.. Feel the power of  the words that i choose to ignore.. Feel the beauty of things i am too stuck up to acknowledge.. Feel the feelings i am too scared to feel.. Feel the wallop and implications of the mistakes i make but disregard..

Not too long ago, i was as 'dreamer' as dreamer gets. I was a believer. I still am, i think. But earlier it wasn't so much hope as it was faith. I know that many people treat 'hope' and 'faith' as synonyms to each other. I don't. There isn't any extra terrestrial explanation for it but i have always been slightly more  inclined towards Faith than i have been towards Hope. I think because while Hope is more about trusting predestination, Faith is believing. There is nothing more noble than keeping faith.. rather, the ability to keep faith. Faith in things, in people; the ones you love and those you don't.
I might be losing that now. I find myself not wanting so many things that i wanted, only a while back. I don't dream anymore. I hardly remember them, if at all i do. My self ingrained dream catcher, too,  seems futile now. I hardly dance and sing for no reason. I have quit dressing up for myself.
People might say am growing up. I just feel i am growing old.

None of this comes even close to the 'confessions' i have in my mind. The major confession being that i am too weak to confess. Truth scares me. Intimidates me. Though not a liar, I haven't shied away from not saying anything at all, more often than not.


Till happier and more content times....