Sometimes, I look up at the night sky, and feel so terribly small and so wonderfully special, knowing I sing in harmony with the chorus of the song of the stars, singing for Him who spun the galaxies and makes the universe dance.I adore sunflowers. And time. Oh, but time is elusive. You think you have it in your hand, and just as you clutch it to your heart, it slips away, and you wake to find yourself six feet under the face of a stranger.
Hello.
Words of utter incoherence, brought to you by your friendly neighborhood dysfunctional human being!
Shadows settle on the place, that you left.
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness.
Destroy the middle, it’s a waste of time.
From the perfect start to the finish line.
And if you’re still breathing, you’re the lucky ones.
‘Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs.
Setting fire to our insides for fun
collecting names of the lovers that went wrong
the lovers that went wrong.
We are the reckless,
we are the wild youth
chasing visions of our futures
one day we’ll reveal the truth
that one will die before he gets there.
And if you’re still bleeding, you’re the lucky ones.
‘Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone.
We’re setting fire to our insides for fun.
Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home,
It was a flood that wrecked this…
…and you caused it…
…and you caused it…
…and you caused it…
Well I’ve lost it all, I’m just a silhouette,
A lifeless face that you’ll soon forget,
My eyes are damp from the words you left,
ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.
ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.
And if you’re in love, then you are the lucky one,
‘cause most of us are bitter over someone.
Setting fire to our insides for fun,
to distract our hearts from ever missing them.
but I’m forever missing him.
and you caused it,
and you caused it,
and you caused it.
———————————————-
I think what I’ve been learning lately is the art of letting go, and letting in. I have a very, very bad habit of bottling up my feelings, my thoughts, myself, until the bottle’s more crowded than the shoe with a hundred children in it. (You know, the nursery rhyme. The weird, kinda freaky one.) And by keeping the important things in, I tend to keep the important people out. Or I let them flip through the first chapter then slam their fingers between the covers before they read the best and the worst of me. And I guess that’s me trying to be brave, trying to be strong, but I guess you can’t go on being strong for yourself because you have no real strength alone, it comes from somewhere. And sometimes, I run to the wrong people, not to open up, but bury, to file away troubles and regrets and pain, because I get too scared to deal with them. And that can hurt other people too, people who try to help, but whom you won’t let in. It’s ironic, I suppose. In a way. I’m the girl who speaks her mind, but not her heart. Brave smiles. (Or cowardly ones?)
Maybe it’s just that there are too many questions, I have too many questions, and I know the answers to some of them, I’m just too scared to answer them, and I can’t find the right words to say everything I have to. Or the right people to tell them to. I don’t know.
I should blog about more relevant things.
“We’ll grow up and as the seasons rush past, the flowers blooming along the road side will change too. I wonder.. what were the name of the flowers that bloomed during that season? They trembled slightly in the breeze, felt a little prickly to touch.. and when you moved your nose close to them, they gave off the fresh scent of sunlight. In time that scent will fade. And we’ll grow up. But.. I’m sure those flowers will continue blooming somewhere. Yes.. we’ll go on.. granting the wishes of those flowers forever.”
(Source: ohno-zombees)
