urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:sj_ramblings Not guaranteed to make sense to anyone but myself. Sara Jane 2005-11-07T20:21:29Z urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:sj_ramblings:583 2005-11-07T20:21:29Z 2005-11-07T20:21:29Z I'm going to lock most of these posts to friends only. I don't want some of this stuff to be able to be googled. I have some ideas for stories and screenplays and I'd much rather not give people the opportunity to steal my ideas. If you're not on my friends list, but would like to be added, just post a comment here and I'll happily add you. urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:sj_ramblings:257 2005-09-09T01:27:26Z 2005-09-09T01:27:26Z Life changes constantly. I'm okay with that, I'm very adaptable. Change can even be really good most of the time. What happens when life has finally dealt a winning hand after a lifetime of losing everything? Good, right? Yes and no.<br /><br />How long does it take to shake the things that are etched deeply on our souls? Our heads can tell us one thing, but our insides still scream of something different, something raw, something so ingrained in us that we know no other truth. When that thing that's scarred us is dark and painful, it can be a very difficult journey to heal. When you are led to believe certain things about yourself for a lifetime, how do you start to learn if those things are truths or just what has been beaten into you to keep you down and subservient and ready for the next lashing? <br /><br />Are we really the people that we've been led to believe that we are? Yes, we can always force change within ourselves, but sometimes you have to wonder if we were really so flawed as to need the tidal wave of change as we are led to believe. <br /><br />We are forced to breath in these things about ourselves until it becomes more comfortable than the clean truth, like learning to breath underwater and forgetting what the air feels like in your lungs. The sea becomes the dark, cold comfort of familiarity. That is all some of us know, having never breathed the clean, freshness of pure oxygen. We choke on it and dive back into the water, fearing the light, not trusting it to be truth. How can we ever really know of it's purity while always waiting for the deception. <br /><br />It's safer here. The scars are old and worn, but familiar. We've learned to live with them and accept them as our truth, never knowing if it really is.