December 5, 2008

• Coping With Personalities

  Who am I?
  Whenever this question is asked, an infinite number of possible answers rise to borders of my lips. A battle between words begin as I grumble my way out to a singular statement. Although a few may diligently return from their graves as I continue to speak.
  I am Prima. Well, that usually never fails. The habitual answers that have been deemed appropriate by society usually take ease in taking initiatives. However, my initial answers often come from the heart, or somewhere that I can't really explain. Who are you? "I am the woman who will love you to the deepest ends of the sea and push you beyond the highest stars in the sky. I am the woman you will never learn to love, nor love to understand, because it is not within your capacity". Instead I might continue with my secondary answers, something like, "... yea.. and I like cats " indirectly concluding the pointlessness of answering a question one may never had an intent of receiving a true answer to.

  Honestly, I feel a little more comfortable writing this now that most of my social feinding subscribers have immersed themselves in places they belong. Facebook.
  But really, this who am I contradictory. ...
  I have become so many things. My personality has filled quite a portion of the spectrum. That should be a good thing right?
  I've slowly dipped my soul into many different cups of lessons of life. What do I taste like? Imagine coffee, and soda, and tea, and some juice all soaked into a single piece of bread. Haha, not all of them mix very well together huh? But that is me.
  I have become a person dripped in so much content, that I can relate to so many things, but nothing relates back to me.
  I am a movie with too many plots and no genre. People don't know what they are watching. It's no wonder the man can never understand.
  I am friendly, cold, motherly, opinionated, easy to please, picky, funny, mean, restless, focused, mature, a really annoying crybaby. An artist, who values the mind, an athlete who values the body, the gluttonist who cares of nothing but satisfaction of infinite needs, and the suffering unconditional sacrificing idealist.
  Tell me, how do you write a story with me?
  Who am I? When I am holding my little sister in tears, threatening to run away and keep her in my care away from the world of suffering and pain?
  Who am I? When I am laughing over mochi and bubble tea with my good friends, talking shit and making sure everyone's enjoying themselves.
  Is it any different?
  From when I become quiet and omnipotent, handling problems in a manner that can seemingly frighten the masses?
  Or when I become stiff, unlenient, and unsympathetic to a person's mistakes when I acknowledge that they've put someone in pain due to their own selfishness?
  Well, what about that inner me?
  That introspective thinker who reads and writes endless poetry, longing for spirituality, love, and understanding? Who eagerly asks questions and listens and absorbs the world around her, intrigued. You know, that liberal, lack of moral foundation, emotional side of me?

  I've asked this question many times before.

  Tuesday, October 30, 2007

  Substantially Subjected Is this me? The gentle voice of Warm compassion Humming softly By your bedside When you're asleep? Or could I be? The immalleable stone Darkened, worn and weary Persevering battles of Endless centuries... Drop me in the water please Am I light? Or am I heavy? Will I fall to the deepest sea? Or am I freed from the slightest hint Of need? Which is me? Must I? Forever wander... In between?

  What will I do with me? This personality of a morphing puzzle piece... Relating to everything, but truly to nothing. Substantially subjected, yet I am not complete in any form. But me being this way, this is me being myself.  Being all of these things encompassed, a track with trance, classical, pop and r&b; A compilation of music... or jibbirish.

  • 3:59 pm
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