Long ago, when I first started blogging, I came across one blog which caught my attention instantaneously. I could honestly say, her blog has been the only blog that ever captivated me, even since. From that moment on, I had begun digging into her previous post. I will shamelessly admit I read them all. I read them all and I wanted more of her words in my life. She reminded me so much of myself although, I looked up to her. For a brief moment I wanted to be her.
Yeah, that intense.
She has a wild heart and writes vulgarly with conviction. She cares for no bullshit. She lives as she wishes; as she may. She is so vibrate and genuinely gorgeous.
Years passed. Life happened, forcing the mere remnants of her to fade from my thoughts. My life went on from shambles in to gold. Then one fine day she comes back into focus in the form of a Facebook friend request. I couldn’t believe she remembered me, or how she ever found me as I previously thought of her as this deity, unworthy of her friendship let alone a tiny piece of her memory. But again, she remembered.
I was excited to accept her friendship, if even in the form of internet flattery.
I started out reading her past Facebook post excitedly but beneath each written word, I felt my buried self emerge. I saw my ghost in her pain, in her thoughts, in her current life status. Ironically, we are both from the same parts. We both call Houston our birthplace. When I lived in the city of lust + sins, she lived here. Now we are exactly in the other’s shoes.
Only now, I imagine, we are literally in the other’s shoe. I am happy and she is seemingly lost.
I sympathize for her. I know exactly how it feels to be lost in an abyss of debauchery, not knowing how you got there in the first place, and wondering out you’re going to get yourself out– but then again, do you want to get yourself out? There are very little people you can trust in Vegas.
Everyone is there for one reason: The Hustle.
Either you have it in you to be a shark, or you tear yourself apart trying to play a role you’re never meant to be. I know I did. I am not meant to be a shark, and in the same light I do not want to be. I am not going to speak for her and say this isn’t who she is, however if she is the same bleeding heart I believed her to be; the same as I, I would assume her kindred heart and compassion should speak for itself.
Nevertheless, I am hopeful. I hope she gets herself out of Vegas before it entirely breaks her will beyond repair. I hope she finds a place surrounded by mindful souls that won’t rob her of what trust left she harbors. I hope. I hope. I hope.
There is little sanity in a world without discipline or self-control.