Tell me it's a lie. Tell me that when I'm on the road and the skies are still in their orange darkness hour, as I listen to a song about home, that it's all a lie.
Tell me that when I'm thinking of it and the tears slip before I can realize it, that it's just the effect of years and years of make-believe. Tell me I belong here. Tell me nothing of what I think is waiting, is. Tell me to get out the stack of get-out thoughts out of the car next time I get in. Tell the car to stop making this much sense to me. Tell me to hold on without it necessarily being for one meticulously crafted result. Tell me to sit down, and cry. And then keep telling me not to stop, until the flood washes away everything that stands in my view. Because the view at 7:27 does not look bad, at all.
Words are irrelevant, as of this full-stop.
Except for maybe these:
"Hey, good luck exploring the infinite abyss."
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
And Say This On Repeat.
On second thought, I should consider practicing my fuck-everything smile more often. Life should not move disproportionally against one's tolerance level.
Currently listening to: Nothing, actually. This is not a music-induced post, for a change.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Yesterday.
Here goes the time of the year where you just know autumn is bound to be around the corner, and that summer can't last as long as it already has.
As great as this piece of fact on its own is to an autumn/winter person, that's not entirely why the first day in every month, as of September each year, have started to wash over me with unreasonable excitement. That reminds me of something, though. Not that long ago, I used to get what's called "weather blues" at times of seasons-changing. So I can safely say my weather-sensitive biological reactions know of only extremes.
But at that, I know I can now induce the other extreme much better. And that is good to know. That is really, really good to know.
On a random note, I believe in birthdays. I always say it's one day the universe owes you. People should take their birthdays seriously. They should let it show them who they've become. They should listen to what that new number is trying to say. It always has useful things to say, regardless of whether it comes in as as a pat on the shoulder or a kick in the stomach.
On a not so random note, however; the skill of not giving a shit when it comes to what shouldn't be given a shit about anymore, is a worthy investment of time and effort, if you ask me.
It's the time of times, again.
As great as this piece of fact on its own is to an autumn/winter person, that's not entirely why the first day in every month, as of September each year, have started to wash over me with unreasonable excitement. That reminds me of something, though. Not that long ago, I used to get what's called "weather blues" at times of seasons-changing. So I can safely say my weather-sensitive biological reactions know of only extremes.
But at that, I know I can now induce the other extreme much better. And that is good to know. That is really, really good to know.
On a random note, I believe in birthdays. I always say it's one day the universe owes you. People should take their birthdays seriously. They should let it show them who they've become. They should listen to what that new number is trying to say. It always has useful things to say, regardless of whether it comes in as as a pat on the shoulder or a kick in the stomach.
On a not so random note, however; the skill of not giving a shit when it comes to what shouldn't be given a shit about anymore, is a worthy investment of time and effort, if you ask me.
It's the time of times, again.
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