Now playing : The Album Leaf - Eastern Glow

"We're meant to change."

I heard this during dinner. What does it do? Keep us from turning stale? Does not changing keep us monochromatic? What if I want grey?

Why did I change? It haunts me everyday to think that I must have done it, inadvertently [I hope], to fit here. Things seem to be so unexampled here. I miss familiarity. I miss looking at sand and thinking "Hey, I'd like the beach." instead of "The beach is tiring."

Clay among glass shards.




Chances not taken. Too little, too late, self.


I'm not this person. I'm not this reckless. I'm not this vindictive.

1997

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Now playing: Sixpence None The Richer - Kiss Me

Kiss me out of the bearded barley
Nightly, beside the green, green grass
Swing, swing, swing the spinning step
You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress.

[Chorus:]
Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
Silver moon's sparkling
So kiss me

Kiss me down by the broken tree house
Swing me upon its hanging tire
Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat
We'll take the trail marked on your father's map

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
Silver moon's sparkling
So kiss me

To think that if I went the other way, things would've turned out differently. I wouldn't have to feel like this..or at the very least, I would've had been a little bit more misdirected, from whatever this seems to be. I will have to convince myself that I can make it, or that I'm able to do so. Ability, possibility.

What a fucking wreck, I am.

rent

What do you do when happiness becomes as similar to anger as sadness is as similar to boredom? You can't distinguish black from white, a hyphen from a cross. It feels like going to hell and coming back to something even worse, unimaginably bad. The height scares you, but what's even more terrifying is not knowing whether you're at the edge, about to fall, or standing below, with no rope to climb up. No one around you but your own little past self gently reminding you that you're not this stupid. All this while something else prompts you to jump. fall. crash. burn. crash&burn. There isn't anyone, they're not here, they're busy fighting their own demons while you lose. You lose and you wait for them to come after you, swallow you whole. And they'll take every micro-inch of you. They don't care, you're not worth it. You cry and scream and kick and beg but no, you're in a vacuum. You can't be heard. You don't want to be heard. You hate the attention. You hate the pity. You hate the help.

..because in the end, you're silently enjoying every single fucking pain life throws at you. You freaking masochist.