Friday, 19 June 2015

Dear Owls, the grey.

Dear Owls, 

I find myself wanting to be free, but feeding my own chains, wanting to run away, but finding places with quicksand. It's an odd adventure to float around your feelings, be cautious which ones you should visit and which you must leave behind.

I find myself wanting to do what's right, but racing from the past of mistakes. It's an odd feeling to have the overwhelming need to tell everyone you know that you're sorry, even if most of them owe you the apology. It's not fun, but it happens to the best of us (so I'm told...)

So, what happens when your walls are closing in and you feel like the only person you can ever rely on is yourself? What happens if you know you're happy, but you know you're not where you want to be? What happens when everybody around you seems to think someway and you're stuck in a magical level? The level of knowing too much but feeling too little. When you're wise enough to know what you did was wrong, but you're too scared to try to live again?

What happens in the grey? The space between white and black, when it's not wrong or right, just somewhere in the middle.
What happens when you explore all the colors?

Your past is not hidden. Your past is important, and a lot of people that I've met recently have told me otherwise, but I don't buy it for a second. It's impossible to think that the only thing you can do is live for the future- that only happens to the luckiest of us (if you can't relate to what I'm saying right now, you're probably the luckiest of us..)

Sometimes, grey gets boring though... and seeing the grey in situations is how you know you're officially older. Maybe, deep down, I just don't want to see in grey.

Yours always owls,

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