The Mending of Self: Courage to Believe...

In earnest anticipation of,

     No one ever believed in me, but look at what I've been able to do despite the silence amidst my art, which was and is healing. Over a thousand lyric style poems, hundreds of poetically infused prose paragraphs of fluid imaginary empathetic flow, hundreds of Spoken Word Podcasts.

     Still there is silence, not a single person in my family reads nor listens to anything I create, yet I don't even pretend to glimpse the past for a moment any other way. That my parents should have empowered me long ago, at any point at all, that I should have been discovered for my endeavours by now...? No, I simply am and exist.

     If people ask me what it is I do, I should answer 'I am a digital busker, a poet of sorts.' But really I am a blue collar, sub proletariat nearly broke artist. Not broke because I don't work, no, I have a full time 40 hour a week job that pays the bills and I'm able to save a bit here or sometimes there. I cycle to work, which adds another hour on each end of my shift as I have a free wheel single speed.

      I also have a other duties to attend to in life, one of them is chivalry, as an adapting hero in the mirror on behalf of one I love. If not engaged in those stat priorities or the few hours of sleep I manage to rummage about in dreams at night, I am writing and creating to heal the heart of the world, to give hope to others via the identity with that which I have made.

     Everything I own is second hand, charity shop or thrift, not normally vintage. I like my simple life and the view of the mirror now. For once the mental illness of Anorexia and other Eating Disorders were deep within me, holding me captive to sorrow and much woe. I was also the victim of childhood sexual abuse, though not from those I love, my family. At least that is what you would classify it as now, uncool to say the least.

    I've had to rebuild my body twice from accidents and my soul once from a near death from depression long lasting incident on behalf of an illogical concept of love which lead to a broken heart on my wrist, below the sleeve where it waited to show itself to bleed for the world again, or just for one...

     However it is that I am able, I am. So I shall continue on this journey of mending hope's inspiration, for it has only just begun.

Juton

VoT