I'm not a leader, I'm too different for that. I'm not a follower, I always see how someone could've done it better. I feel I am just now being born, even though it has already happened sixteen years ago. The mush inside my head is starting to make things. So for my past, I have no words except "I've been everywhere, yet picked up nothing." Though for my future. My gut tells me every day, you will be something. In response, I have subsided my tobacco addiction for something a little longer lasting. Self-Improvement. If I don't pick up a skill I didn't know about the day before, I feel wasteful. With my addiction to self improvement comes a plan, a plan fluctuating like water in a cup. Though just like water is still water, my plan is still the same. Be something, inspire lives. Specifics I can not say, for the day after it would be a lie. That's my journey. Be something more, and decide I've done enough the day before I die.

Dipped in the vast ocean of contentment

Or was I filled

Truth, I felt

My life is not my own

I am not who I thought I was

No knowing

No questions

Answers unnecessary

Everything I longed for

Who holds me so?

By what name do I call you?

Mother father god?

Where am I

A strange question to ask in your home

When I was little, about kindergarten, my mom used to make my sister and I get up and go to church. I would go off to my specific area, them to theirs. All was good. I didn't hate it, but I didn't love it. I was very neutral. However, one day, we stopped going. Abruptly. It's not like we went every other week and slowly stopped, no. We just stopped altogether. Why? I didn't know then, they wouldn't tell me. I figured out about five years ago. My moms had received a letter from the church asking them not to come anymore because they didn't approve of their "lifestyle".

Ever since, whenever I was asked if I believed in God, I would say "Yeah, I think." I mean, how much would I truly understand and retain from my kindergarten self? I guess I just slowly drifted away from the religion.

About two years ago, my mother forced my sister and I into going to church again. It's not a fancy church like the one before. You don't have to dress up or anything. It's very large, easily 100-200 people a service and they have a modern band singing church songs dedicated to God.

I didn't like it. I would dread it the whole week, then the second it was done and over, I would be dreading the next visit. I hated that place. I began back lashing at my mom and saying I didn't like it and I didn't want to go. She didn't care, she said it was her obligation as a mother to make me go to church, because that's what she promised God when she had us.

Now, I wasn't keen to going to some giant building and lay down my life to some dirty deity that I didn't even believe in. I felt the whole thing was completely overrated. I would put up fights and refuse to go. She would hit and smack and drag me by my hair and make me get in the car and often I would be grounded.

To this day, I still go. I don't fight as much but I still dislike it. And guess what? I still don't believe in him.

I find focus in Her eyes. I find breath in Her kiss. I find meaning in Her curves. I find divinity in Her skin. I smell the sun on Her skin, the grass in Her hair, and the ocean in the depth of Her. My passion swells with the rise of Her breasts, and crest upon the shores of Her cleft. I find Bindu in our joining, coupled and becoming one. We share and are the same, and when I know Her, I know myself.