|
| I wish I knew everything is as certain as I think they are. But after tonight, just after a very simple and seemingly insignificant turn of events, it's as if something just fell through in my head and nothing makes sense. Chaos. Thought I knew everything but that was just once upon a time.
We're all looking for something whether we know it or not...if only I knew.
| | |
| It's been a busy couple of days and some things have just started to set in. Honestly, life is short and even though you see the strength of life in so many things, oftentimes, it really isn't the case. And when you're wishing you got to know somebody better, it's usually too late which just makes it all a little sadder. The last week has been about thinking; there are some things that shouldn't go unsaid, especially to the ones that matter. And I'm so ashamed to say that what pushed me to initiate conversation with my own grandparents was the death of someone else's.
People (including me) don't really appreciate the real things in life anymore and it's kind of scary how it takes THIS kind of situation to bring me back to terms with that. It's a heartbreaking that some people don't even have the luxury of breathing on their own, and then there's some others that just willingly choose to poison themselves.
This is about taking things for granted and how truly, when some things are gone, they're gone.
"Husha, husha, we all fall down"
| | |
| So I just stumbled back onto this thing and realized...hey, I haven't blogged in a while.And I admit, I did a little bit of reading on the old entries and then in my head, I kind of went "Whoa, that was a bit of angst". ...then comes the question, "why did I start in the first place?" and it kind of made me shudder a little in realizing it was almost like I was happy being unhappy.
So anyway, maybe it's time to bring this thing back to life. In an enirely different kind of way; I'm pretty sure my take on the major things in life have changed since the earlier years (I'd certainly hope so anyway). Or is blogging not even cool anymore? =/ What exactly is the point of blogging anyway? Was it really to replace the idea of writing a journal? But then again, who publishes their journal to - literally - the entire world? And if that's the case and it's an entirely concious decision on the writer's part to do this, then is it still really a "journal" since obviously (one would think so) there would be a degree of censorship involved?
I could go on forever with these questions in mind, but honestly, it's getting a bit strenuous for 12:30am on a Wednesday night which isn't even nearly considered late back in my school days but somehow lately, I've settled into a more...post-school kind of schedule which involves sleeping before 1am and waking up no later than 9 (without the aid of alarms).
| | |
| When it's not just about the world of you and I and all the people in
it, the worst place to get lost is in yourself with no map, bread
crumbs, or stars to lead the way...
When it's not just about the world of you and I and all the people in it, the worst place to be is in the closest of rooms where suffocation is all that's required and hope is a luxury angels can't afford...
It's impossible to explain the course of depression but my air is saturated with it while you fall asleep in chilled embraces. You look at me as if you love me and all I am but it seems you haven't noticed how dead I've become in everything that's you. It's not the first time I called you a liar and it's in all your opiates that I lie dead, consumed from within.
Old habits die hard and it just hurts that much more where roses are received when I haven't expected thorns...but that's the way it's always been and it's just silly to forget that. And still, I love you.
C'est parfait.
| | |
| I feel nothing from you but it's everything I feel for you that's breaking my heart. You've undone the very seams of it and left me to soak in the damage.
You, my darling, apple of my eye, are the worst temptation I've chosen to do to myself. You are the death of me. Apples, apples, apples...how apt. | | |
|
