on unearthing solitude-

  

spring has finally arrived here in my little mountain town. it has come to accompany me in my solitude, as lately i've been reassessing what it is i want out of this one wildly beautiful life, as opposed to what i am called to be. years have passed, and in them lives a long-suffering of sorts. an internal conflict, an identity crisis. it has taken twenty one years for me to finally dwell comfortably in this soul covering of skin and bones. it has taken twenty one years for me to acknowledge  the significance of resting in ones solitude. i thought i had it down at nineteen, but that was just an awakening; the beginning of this something i continuously unearth each new given day. and it is a mysterious, difficult unearthing: to come to terms with self. to look into the mirror and see not just your own humanity, but the interconnectedness of all the selves once dwelling in said being. how they intertwine to compose a most peculiar, yet a something so uniquely-terrifyingly-beautiful. it is said beauty which lies hidden as an eclipse, i am just now uncovering wholly. quite purely.

meanwhile, i am reading "letters to a young poet." that is, finally reading it cover-to-cover as i have read pieces of letters here and there. i believe books come to you at the time you need them most, and this most recent journey confirms such a belief. yesterday i sat on the quad of my university as these words washed over me, providing an understanding much needed. it is in this understanding i have begun to relinquish the heavy burden of guilt i have unconsciously carried within me for God knows how long.

 

i started an unearthing at nineteen. only now i have begun to ascertain. 

 thank you rilke. forever yours,

k.