Who The Hell Was I?

That's a question I have seemed to ask myself more than expected throughout my life. People always bitch and moan about how they were all on their own. How no one was there to save them and how their struggles completely destroyed them. I lay down my life in order to help others pick of the pieces of their own, and most of the time it goes without notice. People believe some greater power such as God or Allah or whatever the hell they can fabricate saved them, but in reality they just chose to ignore the people who really gave to shits. And perhaps that's our fault, the people who care. I don't tend to consider myself to think by my blood. I'm afraid the actions of impulse were burst and leave bloody messes everywhere. So I am cautious and aware, but far from warm hearted. I pride myself in having a heart that is of equal temperature of Antarctica. Although specific sun's may warm me, I tend to stay hard as ice. I can't help but be warmed by those I see go through the same things as I once did, and I pity those who don't have hope they can survive. But I've come to a point in my life where I need to learn to back off. Return to my little cave and just be. I've had to many moments in my past that have defined the view of me, and I refuse to be made into a crystallization of things that have been.

So here I stand. Blogging about the things that phase and piss me off. I will be who I am, and I will say as I feel. I am a walking contradiction and an indecisive piece of shit. But I am damn well at it. I owe my existence as of today to the music of Bon Iver, and he will be a prominent source in all my writing. He will always get credit for how he saved me.

"Now all your love is wasted?

Then who the hell was I?"

-L.