This weekend, I studied ridiculously hard for my second psychology exam of the semester.
This weekend, I visited my grandma and realized that people in rehab centers might as well be dead, they're all so lifeless and miserable.
This weekend, I understood that when you're in the country you'll do anything for entertainment. Yes, even strenuous tasks like pulling the weeds.
Yesterday, I laughed at a joke my brother made. That's a rarity.
Yesterday, I listened to old people bowling all day.
Yesterday, my mom gave me a movie for Easter because it has my best friend's name in it.
Today, I got an A on that second psychology exam of the semester and nearly broke out right there in the classroom in the electric slide.
Today, I came to the conclusion I want to write a quiet song.
Today, I'm going to bed before midnight.
13 April 2009
12 April 2009
lillies
I've been neglecting blogspot already. *fails*
You are my clock. In fact, you have been for quite a while now. You skip around sometimes, go back an hour and then forward when I'm least expecting it, but what can I say? It'll grow on me like weeds in between the glowing lillies. I always find a way to count on you somehow, even if I don't try. Sometimes I can even hear you from two rooms over, and when I go to sleep, you're still there, ticking along, a constant reminder that no matter how much effort you put into slowing down time, it will never happen. There will always be tomorrow, always. Even the times I've fallen asleep praying that I wouldn't wake up, your incessant ticking awoke my spirits once more, however begrudgingly. You are the reminder I beg for, telling me to keep going, although that's not what you'd do. Your hypocrisy gets to me sometimes and I'll roll my eyes at you, but then realize you were right in the first place. Even if you didn't know what you were talking about. Funny how that works.
You are my inner nature. You are what it's worth, my worth. You are the reason I keep going, keep on writing, keep on living and looking forward to each new day. I suppose you really do need to be there. You are my world, my static. My velcro. If we were a pair of shoes, we'd be tied together at the laces. Maybe we couldn't walk, sure that's an inconvenience. But that's us. Maybe this will die out, but before it does I'd like to tell you how much it means to me. I could fly across seas and it wouldn't be enough for you. I'm not a person to you, I'm an idea, and that's what kills me. Your understanding does not compensate for your lack of knowing.
You are my sense of chaos. You are the earthquake inside of me, the trainwreck, its cause and effect pattern too extraneous for my own good. My wishes will never fulfill reality, will never extricate what I long to say. In my dreams I take your hand, trace into your palm what I'm trying to say. We get each other like nothing else, not even the purest bluejays could read our minds like we do. Speaking is overrated, but it's the only form of communication I'm left with, there's no other way I can face what's out there.
You are the brightest star in the sky, always. I know I'm only one out of a million that's crazy for your attention, but with each coming moon I know it will wane, and I'm not too much looking forward to the waxing.
I'm really really sorry. This deserves more than a message in a bottle floating off to nowhere, but maybe something will intercept and you'll catch it. A butterfly struggles in the gaps between your fingers, screaming for freedom. You are whole, and there is no room for my appreciation. The butterfly understands, just as I do.
But whatever we end up, you'll always be my clock. The second hand that never tires, you'll always subconsciously push me to create new beginnings. There is no way to shut you up. The thumping of your standard ticking, the beating of my heart in tune, it's all too much to be a mere coincidence. I think I'm going crazy.
You are my clock. In fact, you have been for quite a while now. You skip around sometimes, go back an hour and then forward when I'm least expecting it, but what can I say? It'll grow on me like weeds in between the glowing lillies. I always find a way to count on you somehow, even if I don't try. Sometimes I can even hear you from two rooms over, and when I go to sleep, you're still there, ticking along, a constant reminder that no matter how much effort you put into slowing down time, it will never happen. There will always be tomorrow, always. Even the times I've fallen asleep praying that I wouldn't wake up, your incessant ticking awoke my spirits once more, however begrudgingly. You are the reminder I beg for, telling me to keep going, although that's not what you'd do. Your hypocrisy gets to me sometimes and I'll roll my eyes at you, but then realize you were right in the first place. Even if you didn't know what you were talking about. Funny how that works.
You are my inner nature. You are what it's worth, my worth. You are the reason I keep going, keep on writing, keep on living and looking forward to each new day. I suppose you really do need to be there. You are my world, my static. My velcro. If we were a pair of shoes, we'd be tied together at the laces. Maybe we couldn't walk, sure that's an inconvenience. But that's us. Maybe this will die out, but before it does I'd like to tell you how much it means to me. I could fly across seas and it wouldn't be enough for you. I'm not a person to you, I'm an idea, and that's what kills me. Your understanding does not compensate for your lack of knowing.
You are my sense of chaos. You are the earthquake inside of me, the trainwreck, its cause and effect pattern too extraneous for my own good. My wishes will never fulfill reality, will never extricate what I long to say. In my dreams I take your hand, trace into your palm what I'm trying to say. We get each other like nothing else, not even the purest bluejays could read our minds like we do. Speaking is overrated, but it's the only form of communication I'm left with, there's no other way I can face what's out there.
You are the brightest star in the sky, always. I know I'm only one out of a million that's crazy for your attention, but with each coming moon I know it will wane, and I'm not too much looking forward to the waxing.
I'm really really sorry. This deserves more than a message in a bottle floating off to nowhere, but maybe something will intercept and you'll catch it. A butterfly struggles in the gaps between your fingers, screaming for freedom. You are whole, and there is no room for my appreciation. The butterfly understands, just as I do.
But whatever we end up, you'll always be my clock. The second hand that never tires, you'll always subconsciously push me to create new beginnings. There is no way to shut you up. The thumping of your standard ticking, the beating of my heart in tune, it's all too much to be a mere coincidence. I think I'm going crazy.
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