Mason Jar

Just for a moment, take a metaphoric journey through my home.

As if you were some waif, drifting through that cozy abode I call chez-moi, flutter through the rooms and hallways as if you were on wings.

Remove the dust thats been set on those shelves for oh so long and cinch the curtains, sending in a flood of light that's been lost for far too long.

What idea would you get of me on this sentimental journey, flying through sight, sound, and memories?

Would you think that I'm some lonely little night-time recluse stowing away until the eventual light of day forces me to go out and face the world?  Or maybe you'd think I'm just lazy.

The truth is, I'm neither.

I'm far from this slovenly, low-down-to-the-ground creature which you probably imagined form you travels.

In reality, my life has been blessed with the presence of a thousand butterflies sending their colors into my eyes and in them, I see you.

Thats right, you.  All those who I base and send my streams of words created with the help of my peregrinations through the thesaurus onto.

Life... can be summed up truthefully in three simple words: it is hard

And while I may sometimes come home too haggard from the day to do what needs to be done there, I don't wanna complain

See, I absolutely love my life.

I get little flutters going through my mind at the sheer thought of another day to come.

But even I, with my glee-tickled mind and rose-tinted eyes get depressed; I get stressed, I get angry and I get upset but... I have my ways.

What you didn't see on your journey through my home was one of my most safe-kept vessels.

See.  If you were to open up my bedroom closet, work your way through the clothes hanging silent, unmovingly in there, past the four or five boxes left to be unpacked and to that final seemingly still-packed box, you'd be near it.  Upon opening the box, you'd finally find it,

My mason jar.

My most trusted ally with which I can share all those feelings I dont want anyone not made of sand which has had to withstand enough heat to make it molten to have to hear.

To it and only it, I can say things that would make a sailor blush,

A  valley girl hush,

And a Buddhist monk as me, "What on all of God's green Earth is the matter with you?"

See, years ago, I punched holes in the cap going in, but not out so that when I pose those less-than-mellifluous thoughts in,

I need never think of them coming back out again...

That is, unless my worst fears are realized.

See, in my mind, one of the worst things that could ever happen would be if someone found that safehaven for my brain and decided to open it.

I fear that if that happened, the second coming of Pandora's Box might arive.

All the innocence left in the world would be lost should those thoughts escape my mason jar's retain and soar through the air, bouncing off the ears of everyone whose paths they crossed.

Then, we might all have reason to feel jaded about this wretched world.

Or maybe, it wouldn't.

Maybe, that's just me thinking about things said in a mood of utter uncontrolledness, which, nonetheless, maintain their veracity, but might be better left unsaid.

Into my mason jar, I can tell feelings,

Yell feelings,

Scream and cry and weep feelings which I, thanks to that, won't have to feel sorry for later.

This idea of coming home after a hard day and knowing where I can put my feelings when stringing them out into a stream of heartfelt words fails to quail them is absolutely amazing.

And while it may not completely obliterate those unfavorable, treacherous thoughts,

It does help. 

But as for right now, I don't have that mason jar at hand,

So, I'll have to use... you.