Being Real

i wish that i was "deep" like a lyrical poet. if i was, then maybe i could be the writer i wish i could be - someone that can move someone else's soul by the words that melt from the pen to their heart. sometimes the tinge of jealousy rings at my core while blog-surfing as a profound passage from a person's thoughts makes me ponder my own fate in life. sometimes i ask myself, why can't i do that?

but i realize that i'm me. maybe, because i don't think that i can be as deep as someone else, i'm lacking in some respect of me as an artist. but in reality - being real - f that way of thinking. i am who i am. i have been conditioned for so long to only see my self-worth through other people's eyes. to a degree, i still do - but it tends to wear a person down - to take every blow of wanting to please someone, except for me, made me want to shut down/out of living for the only person that matters in the end - me.

keeping it real - i write for me. i have, like the other blog writers whom i admire, my own voice - deep or not - it's mine! the only thing i can do is to make my voice, audibly and internally, HEARD. i AM an artist. i won't judge at what level i am an artist because that's when i stop being one. in this desperate struggle to make a living by working to pay the bills, the artist in me has been dying. each day's worth of coding the various acronyms of HTML, JS, CSS, AS, and SHIT to make the $$$, a piece of my soul gets more and more lost in the darkness i have created for myself. ironic when "making a living" kills the inner soul of the person i loved when i couldn't even scrape two nickels together. luckily, i'm not dead yet!

the time for saying "i wish" is over. the glimmer of light is peeking over the horizon and i gladly run to it. it's like finally seeing home - a place that's warm and nurturing... and i'm no longer alone. a bunch of my friends are already there urging me in to the embers of a creative world of passion and love for being who i truly am... for being me - being real.