it's 3
i have to be up at 5.
i haven't wrote in awhile, and honestly, it's been nice to be away from the computer.
it's given me a little time to think. to put things a bit more into perspective, although i don't know how much more thinking i can do because sometimes i feel like i already know a lot of the answers and justifications behind actions and thoughts. i realize i don't have all of the answers, but i'm saying there are times where it feels like that. that i have life completely figured out.
school starts tomorrow.
i'm not nervous.
i'm not dreading it completely.
part of me cannot wait to get myself back into a schedule.
something about this time of night, or day depending on how you look at things, makes john mayer even more amazing.
i cannot fight this feeling that everything is coming together as it should.
everything is fitting into place. and coming together nicely.
that it's all leading up to something a bit more grand. a bit more worthwhile.
maybe this is just wishful thinking. maybe i'm just dreamer. maybe i'm reading farther into things than i should be. maybe i'm just leading myself up to a great heartbreak and disappointment.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
"how can a fistfight be romantic?"
knock me out.
the things that seem so right
are usually the things that are the most wrong.
broken hearts mended by empty bottles.
the depression has seeped through my skin
and i cannot escape.
force it back down. keep it all together.
drown the ache with some melody.
but it's one hell of a fighter and things aren't
going in my favor.
my lungs are suffocating themselves. the walls
are closing in everywhere i look. my fingers tingle,
maybe in fear of what my mind is holding back.
a museum of heartache.
a mausoleum of people that never really mattered.
my blood is turning toxic
-and i love it.
i'm changing.
i refuse to be the prey any longer.
are you ready?
let's hope to god you are.
because my conscious is turning black
to match the blood i will soon splatter.
are you scared?
you should be.
you're not here with me.
the things that seem so right
are usually the things that are the most wrong.
broken hearts mended by empty bottles.
the depression has seeped through my skin
and i cannot escape.
force it back down. keep it all together.
drown the ache with some melody.
but it's one hell of a fighter and things aren't
going in my favor.
my lungs are suffocating themselves. the walls
are closing in everywhere i look. my fingers tingle,
maybe in fear of what my mind is holding back.
a museum of heartache.
a mausoleum of people that never really mattered.
my blood is turning toxic
-and i love it.
i'm changing.
i refuse to be the prey any longer.
are you ready?
let's hope to god you are.
because my conscious is turning black
to match the blood i will soon splatter.
are you scared?
you should be.
you're not here with me.
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