steve carlton writing

My eyes are wide open I have travelled far and wide But my path it was true I am weary, but also determined To reach the end (Of the clearing) In life's brightest moments But also in it's darkest My eyes had to adjust I have seen it all And I am still on my way To uphold the balance, I must Yet I've been (un)broken So many times over My faith has been tested But as I have travelled In moments I have squinted And wondered about the purpose If it justified the means Or if the ending was going to be What I wanted it to My eyes are wide open And my path, it was true I have travelled far and wide As I have travelled with you

I think it is important to enjoy the beauty of the moment. Sometimes that comes from being spontaneous and I should look to improve in that regard, but even I myself can get lucky and stumble into such a situation. It is the smiles that come after looking away and then back at you. It is the silence that isn't uncomfortable and the smallest affirmations like a hug or a comforting touch. It is in the passionate kisses that you have been waiting for, the look of attraction and the sharing of secrets - the opening up about oneself in a way one rarely ever does. It is my pleasure to enjoy all this, knowing that it can go away very quickly. It is about the moment and this I know for sure. The goodbye's and the message thereafter. The urge to meet again.  Really the simplest of things can be exciting, just because of someone else. The nature of this... it is fascinating to me. There are a couple of things I don't like about the culture of dating. Maybe some of them h...

I remember your time in Africa And the pain that I felt But also our first night What an animal you were How much love I had for you You really belonged there How lonely I was with you there That month away in Africa I remember longing for you And the love I still felt Ignoring the problems that were Keeping me up all night Still I remember that one night At your place, we got to know us there Looking at the stars that were Right there with you in Africa Alongside the distance you haven’t felt Between us and me waiting for you While I was hoping for you To change your mind one night Because of the love you have felt I saw a chance for us there When you return from Africa But you saw the changes that were Between us, the issues that were More complicated for you That realization came in Africa When you sat by yourself one night And didn’t wish for me to be there There was no more love that you felt You stopped to care wha...

The purpose of this entry is twofold: For one, it is an explanation as to why I have missed out on posting on my schedule, even when admittedly very few people (if any at all) even noticed or care. However, I do and I did, but as it turns out it might just be necessary, sometimes, that I have something like this happen to me, maybe a missed appointment, an unanswered call or a couple of sleepless nights. Those might be required for me to notice that there is something that is not quite right, to put it mildly - that there is a thing that is frightening, anxiety provoking or in any other way unsettling, which eventually I can't ignore anymore. I have gotten better at realising that something like that is happening, however, I still take my time (and often need advice) with an actual solution, a way forward.  The purpose of this entry is also to explain to myself why it was that I did not post (on all mediums) yesterday. This blog, however, is rather serious for me because it is the...

Have you ever met a writer, who is afraid of reading? I've stated this years ago (in other words): Young people don't read enough. It is just not in fashion enough, I would say, struggling to find a better explanation. This included myself just as much as anyone else, since I barely read anything at that time. I am studying literature and I refuse to read, which makes absolutely ZERO sense to me. I go on living my life in the disregard of friendship, being misguided (because I have NO role model) and behave regretful. My search for reason has led me to believe I was a special snowflake that should just keep dreaming, while I was trying to destroy myself. I write a letter to my deceased father because I am struggling to hold on. At this point, I have dug myself into a hole so deep that I cannot see the light on top of me no more. In three years of therapy I have never cried spontaneously, but when I was asked to critize my father, I broke into tears immediately: Jackpo...

But how can I get this across? Hey I think there might be A reason for you to bite me To claw and scratch And fight me But there is no way to tell you When you are not alone Consider gigantic loss If you were to know You could actually fight back When at your heart’s desire Is peace, love and harmony I wish you were not far from me When at my heart’s desire true Is the love for a fight But just with you It seems alright

“I thought this would all go down differently” I said to her and didn’t quite know what I was feeling. She gave me a slight smile and said “Come on, I need to go to bed.” This was all rushed, I had prepared for a different scenario. “Well, you take care, alright?” I hushed. “I will. See you in October.” she replied. We gave each other a short, meaningless kiss and I was on my way home. I came over to take care of her, made her a nice dinner, brought some ice cream and gave her back a good rub. All while she was feeling miserable. I just wanted to look after her and enjoy the last moments together before she went away to Africa the next week. Unfortunately, it all came different. Just two weeks after our almost break up, I felt like I got played again. I just happened to realize this maybe a third of the way home because the first third I was feeling quite sorry for myself. The last third I was quite angry actually. I ended up thinking that I should have not invited myself in to take ca...