Rainy days always get me down
That song you slowly sing
Is keeping you from breaking down
It's a long way down, it's a long way
- Posted using BlogPress from my iTouch
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Not the only one
From the vault.
I guess, that is the end of it. Even with the little twinge overall I feel surprisingly relieved. Being tactful or glib had nothing to do with anything- calling a spade a spade will always be the best way. How long was it? One year? Three years? I can't even remember anymore. I guess I am still the same stupidly selfish and childish person I was three years ago, mentally, emotionally- growing old is mandatory. Growing up is not. So long as there isn't a Nice Boat ending, that alone looms large and terrifyingly so.
Once again in 22 years what do I have to show for myself? A collection of worthless quips stolen from others, a series of embarrassing events, a few clumps of normalcy. Lies and more lies, pseudo confidence and flimsy personality. Wall after wall of defenses covering image after image. What is that crap I see, starting straight back at me, when will my reflection show someone who lives life? Some people want to live in a world of their own, maybe I already am irregardless of what the real world says.
Maybe on some level I admire the Matrix structure of reality, it is terrible but if it is true then maybe- just maybe there is hope of escape/rescue for me. Screw the red blue pill, I'll down the whole bottle.
I want to be selfish, to grasp at my right to have life the way I want it even after giving it away. To steal back lost time and recover unexplored possibilities. Maybe I won't be as spineless and ineffectual as I am now however right this is. Maybe I'd even be irrevocably damaged- but at least I'd have been happy- for once.
I guess, that is the end of it. Even with the little twinge overall I feel surprisingly relieved. Being tactful or glib had nothing to do with anything- calling a spade a spade will always be the best way. How long was it? One year? Three years? I can't even remember anymore. I guess I am still the same stupidly selfish and childish person I was three years ago, mentally, emotionally- growing old is mandatory. Growing up is not. So long as there isn't a Nice Boat ending, that alone looms large and terrifyingly so.
Once again in 22 years what do I have to show for myself? A collection of worthless quips stolen from others, a series of embarrassing events, a few clumps of normalcy. Lies and more lies, pseudo confidence and flimsy personality. Wall after wall of defenses covering image after image. What is that crap I see, starting straight back at me, when will my reflection show someone who lives life? Some people want to live in a world of their own, maybe I already am irregardless of what the real world says.
Maybe on some level I admire the Matrix structure of reality, it is terrible but if it is true then maybe- just maybe there is hope of escape/rescue for me. Screw the red blue pill, I'll down the whole bottle.
I want to be selfish, to grasp at my right to have life the way I want it even after giving it away. To steal back lost time and recover unexplored possibilities. Maybe I won't be as spineless and ineffectual as I am now however right this is. Maybe I'd even be irrevocably damaged- but at least I'd have been happy- for once.
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