Self Inflicted Lock-Up ~ Tryst Journal

Self Inflicted Lock-Up
 
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A Free Write ~ Tryst Journal
 
Life.
 
We spend our whole lives, trying to figure out the meaning to life. Waking up, each day, putting one step in front of the other, constantly moving forward. Each moment, consciously aware that we are alive. What is my purpose? What is the meaning of my existence? Why am I here? Where am I going?
 
Questions like this circulate constantly in my mind, every single day. When I was younger, I was very conscious of these wonderings, these thoughts, but my mind was still very young. My mind was very unexperienced to the ways of the world. I was trying to grow, and fit in, not only to the world and its social elements, but also trying to fit into my mind… my spirit. What did my spirit want? What felt right? What brought me happiness, or sadness? Also, at that young age, I was thinking about growing up, and what I wanted to, and could do, to be an adult. How was I going to take care of myself.
 
It’s such a paradox, that we want so badly to grow up and have the freedoms of an adult. Then, when we reach adulthood, we do what we need to do to survive, but in the process, every year that passes by, the questions still remain, very much alive and unanswered… what is the meaning of my life? Who am I really? What am I supposed to do?
 
I find myself in moments of unhappiness. I know I feel the unhappiness. I know what I want to make me happy. So, why am I even fighting it? If I know the answer to something, where is the action towards obtaining it?
 
Hope.
 
I lose hope because what I want is not something that I can just go out and get. I can’t buy it in one second and begin enjoying it the next minute. Things aren’t always obtainable like that. Things aren’t always in arms reach.
 
I think that when I feel the most defeated and render myself stuck, in life, at a standstill, pondering the sadness, the unsatisfactory, picking apart the continuing questions, I get a real sense of hopelessness. I feel overwhelmed. I am standing there, looking at the whole picture, saying I want this and this and that, and I have none of that at all right now. I find myself saying that I’ll never get there, or be able to have all those things.
 
Beginning.
 
Starting at square one is a start. But it is a step that must be taken. Like growing up. Growing up doesn’t happen in one day. It is a process, a gradual, day by day, sequence of time that we never get a break from. Time never stops. So, when I feel like I’m standing at a wall, going nowhere, the whole world is still going on and moving around me. So why, how even, am I so stuck?
 
My life doesn’t get to stop while everyone else keeps going. Yet, there are ways to paralyze yourself. There are ways that I have stopped my life. And when I define these moments, it’s what I call a waste of time.
 
Wasting time is when I find myself, moving, but not moving forward. This is my genre of depression. The depression that I have invited into my life is just this: the feelings of overwhelming doubt put me into a conscious state of living paralysis. I somehow, lock myself up behind self-inflicted bars that aren’t really there. I cry feeling the sadness of being stuck, but I am feeling this way because I have allowed my life to invite this reality. I allowed it. I have a choice not to be stuck.
 
So, why am I so stuck?
 
J. Lefever
 
This free write was written in the space of the last few days… or so… just some babble, I thought I’d post in my Tryst Journal…
 
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©Think. Speak. Tryst. Publication
 
 
 
 
 
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The City

The City

A Piece from the Inside

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Tryin’ to walk on water

Becoming that much stronger

The streets are destroying my mind…

Visions of bad wishes,

Is all that I find…

 

Take my hand

I will set you free

So the blackness says to me

 

Shaken in the bridge that I stand upon

Fear is the reality that I run from

Ghetto metropolis, I ask in need

Like the stranger on the bus, who

Has nothing to eat

Stand with your hand out and see

If the city feeds you

 

City has nothing for me

 

~~ J. Lefever ~~

(02/22/12)

 

I haven’t written a piece for the Heroin Journals in a while.

This piece is not something I wrote today, however, but it is one of my favorites.

I wrote this from the inside. About a year ago…

 

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 ©Think. Speak. Tryst. Publication

Moment of Choice

 

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Moment of Choice

 

The day you decide

The moment you make the choice

You put into action

And you suddenly have a voice

 See I was not

Taken seriously

I did not represent

The real me

I could say this

And I could say that

But nothing was tangible

While I was on smack

So, once I chose

To sing a different song

Is when my voice

Finally felt it belong

I want the ‘Me’ back

I want to make shit mine

I have survived it all

I have even served some time

I was so blind

To the fact I had a choice

It took the loss of everything

For me to find my own voice

 

~~ J. Lefever ~~

(03/28/12)

Divided.

 

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Divided

 

All of us stand divided

Yet we stand as one

Hope to walk united

At war until it’s done

Many of us have fire

We are strapped & armed with steel

Our strength takes us higher

But to be true, now that shit is real

 

– J Lefever

(Incarcerated in 2012)

Laced with Faith

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Laced with Faith

 

And in a moment

My heart felt content

My eyes were open

My past I repent

I can face it now

With arms open wide

Facing my fears

I no longer hide

I went through my past

Not believing in you

I thought I was alone

But I had you too

I feel your presence

Building strength in my mistakes

And now I’m a spirit

That is laced with faith

Incredible you

How you have shown me

I’ve never been alone

And I’ve always been free

 

~ J. Lefever

(05/28/12)

 I wrote this piece and was inspired to write more on faith.

I sat down and wrote Fallen From Grace

I read ‘Fallen’ to some of the others on the inside with me. ‘Fallen from

Grace’ was one of my most requested pieces to read.

Serving Life in My Mind

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I thought I was dead

And forgotten and blind

A shadow in the world

Lost in my own mind

I’d carry about

I’d push on through

I thought I was cleaver

And that no one knew

That I was broken

I was numb inside

I was dying a prisoner

Of my own wicked mind

How and when did I

Become like this

Memories of a life

Of me that I miss

Only to stop looking

In the mirror

Reflection of all

That I now see clearer

A vision of me

Not lost anymore

A vision outside

My wicked mind’s door

I’m always and forever serving life in my mind

But pure and strong I will never rewind.

 

~ J. Lefever

(04/14/12)

Free For The Moment

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It’s as blue as you can imagine

If you close your eyes and think of the sea…

The sky that is…

I stand alone at a window

Looking through bars of steel

I almost feel alive,

Almost real…

I think of all of them

Running from their own shadows

Inside the prison of their very own lives…

And in a prison I sit

But I’m so free for the moment.

Finally I can think,

And the words start to flow,

Like the busy of the traffic on that far off road…

And I am free at last,

Tossed my sins to the depths

of the deepest sea,

I got a reason today…

To be me…

At a window, behind bars,

Yet I’m still free…

 

~ J. Lefever

04/08/12