Sour Lemon Drops
"I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"
And then there was...
Feeling quite ill, I just cut the chord. Now I’m truly alone. I’ve held on to that last hope, bit of connection, but no more. It’s just pathetic. I need to prove to myself that I don’t need it. I feel like I’m losing something, but what I’m really afraid of losing it that consistency. That person who calls you everyday (whether you pick up or not), who you know will be there to see everything you do (even if they don’t really care). It’s just comforting to know that there IS somebody there at all, even if they are destructive. Bottom line: I’m just exhausted from struggling to get out of this web. I need the rest in the form of new people, respect, and joy.
One day I hope you will find your way and we can assemble a healthy friendship, but I’m not holding my breath.
Sailing Onward
I need to train myself not to pick up the phone, no matter how many times in a row he calls. I usually give in around the 5th call, because I cannot stand the perpetual ringing of my cellular that signifies me letting go with each note. With each ring, I feel a piece of myself slipping away (ironically, pieces that probably need to be purged anyway). The ship has been sinking and I’m in the life boat, but refuse to set sail. I guess I still believed I could save the boat, but I realize now he would rather be at the bottom of the ocean than safely ashore. That’s fine by me, only please stop trying to sink me down with you. I’m officially detaching from this, I’m not invested in whatever path you chose. I’m sailing onward. I grew tired long long ago of trying to cultivate something that may have never been there to begin with. You’re a shell, as empty as any washed up on shore. “You’re beautiful, but you’re empty” and I must admit, I’m ashamed of myself for not realizing that sooner. In twenty minuets it will be a brand new day, one where I can officially say you are a memory that I will always long for because I never conquered this or even quite understood it. Oh, you’ll be here, I’m sure of that, you’ll always be here, but from now on I’ll always be somewhere else. When we’re sitting at the piano or eating lunch, don’t fail to see I’m absent and if I am present don’t forget to look into my eyes and see how sad I feel for you and how I wish you could find a way into your own heart. Metaphorically speaking, Goodbye, I’ll miss what might have been, but frankly you don’t deserve it.
Joseph Cambell and the Power of Myth is on Netflicks Ready to View. I may die happy.
I think you're crazy, maybe.
Time is constantly strangling me with it’s gnarly hands. Wanting it to speed and then reverse, slow, or stop but never being able to actually decide for myself which is eventually to occur. I want to spend time with time, learn its secrets, its weaknesses.
“Red wine and sleeping pills
Help me get back to your arms
Cheap sex and sad films
Help me get where I belong
I think you’re crazy, maybe
I think you’re crazy, maybe
Stop sending letters
Letters always get burned
It’s not like the movies
They fed us on little white lies
I think you’re crazy, maybe
I think you’re crazy, maybe
I will see you in the next life
Beautiful angel
Pulled apart at birth
Limbless and helpless
I can’t even recognize you
I think you’re crazy, maybe
I will see you in the next life”
It’s a thunder and lightning storm for the ages. I really enjoy that electric feeling that runs up and down each vein when you step out into the pouring rain with the sky blazing white.
Dear Radiohead,
Please take me away tonight.
Somebody was reminiscing tonight about this time last year. I couldn’t even hear the events relayed out of somebody else’s mouth. A wave came over me and I felt the disappointment and aloneness just as if it were last week. It surprised me deeply. I’m not at the point where I can joke about my recent past yet or even discuss it without sensitivity. It will pass.
Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony. ” - Mr. Shakespeare
Summer is close at hand. All I want to do is feel the grass under my feet and plant flowers and dance in the moonlight and drink wine into the wee hours of the morning. There’s a baby bunny, no larger than a half dollar in my backyard. I’ve never seen something so fragile and small yet so perfectly formed. The baby’s mother sits and watches and does her best to scare away groundhogs and courageously braves the elements to keep the tiny bunny safe. I’m locked in this tower, but ivory it’s not. If I had the key to unlock the door I wouldn’t know it. I wouldn’t know it.
- C: I just get embarrassed when I think about being myself.
- C: But think about how embarrassing it is NOT being yourself.
(via centurygirl)
I know this well.
