I feel like a useless person.
There is a softness to your presence, and yet a weight so intense and concentrated, that even my words have a hard time forming to explain it.
And my words crumple like paper where I might write, “You are an angel.” ,
I think there is a difference between wanting someone to fill that spot next to you and wanting that spot next to you filled by someone. One is general and hopeful and broad and one is particular and wishful and holds a sense of direction. There is a context for each of them, and they may overlap in some regards. But I think there is a difference somewhere between them.
Times I could have done better.
When my dad tells me that the fact that I sometimes paint now when I used to hate the idea of doing it even though he would tell me to try means that he “won”, it makes me never want to paint again.
My heart hangs on you, Nail into photograph on wall, A self portrait addressing the summer and fall. I think about the concepts behind feelings and wonder if you do the same. And i wonder if you leave yourself open somewhere for a future where extended glances could be allowed to unseal the letters they close so tight. Letters that discuss theways in which i think of your soft ...
It’s funny how people just dismiss you sometimes.
Up goes the wall again.
I shouldn’t have taken a nap. Now I feel so empty like it’s the morning.
Next step giving up. Next step wondering why? Next step Next step Next step
It’s like my head is being pressed in-between two weights that say something sarcastic on them.
Initial Thoughts on Pain and Gain.
I saw Pain and Gain this evening. I was stressing out to no end and ready to just be alone, but I decided last minute to go and see it with some friends, and It helped a lot. The movie is raw escapism, which sometimes movies just need to be, in my opinion. I may have not given it the full time when it came to analysis in some areas such as lighting and camera work, but it was an interesting film....
I miss your ways and your grace and just you as a whole.
It’s probably about time for this day to just finish.
Graze your skin with lips and breath, turned inside out, feelings tacked on sleeves and wishes thrown into wells as deep as your love for the soft and the graceful parts of life, as well as the rugged and grain covered parts of life. —— Hands upon hands upon layers of thought, wired for actions so lifted, placed upon sheets of acrylic, canvas and brush, canvas and brush. ...
In The Place
Sometimes I do things, and I think about you in the place in front of me, where a dotted line cut-out seems to be, and I think about you on the earth in front of me, where a potted plant lined cut-out seems to be, and I wish that you were swaying against my movements, like a time keeper, metronome but with a true heart, and a true start. Sometimes I think about you in the place, Sometimes...
This week freaking sucks. I just want to scream into the air. Every time a hint of something good happening begins to start, it gets beat down with the fury of a thousand sun dragons. SUN DRAGONS.
I don’t know what to fucking do.
I guess I get what I deserve.
Of course I ruined everything. What’s new?
Thoughts about Dear and The Headlights.
“I haven’t had a day alone since I’ve met you.” Every time I hear this song, “Oh No!”, by Dear and The Headlights, this line sticks in my head. I looked up some meanings for the lyrics, and most people connect it to the idea of a bad relationship. I connect it more to the idea of someone who as soon as you meet, they grow in your thoughts to the point of even...
I think about your hand in mine, and I count the days. I count the ways, and the sun shines it’s rays, and it hides away for rainy days. Yet I think about your hand in mine, graceful and kind. and I count the days.
Everything about me feels so pointless and temporary. ———— I feel like a step on a ladder.
I feel like I have all of the time in the world for you. Am I used to this feeling? Not in particular.
You joke that i’m decaying from here on out. I laugh. partially because it’s funny, and partially because I feel that way every day.
A little school rant.
I really don’t like that i’m being forced to do creative things for classes, when lately I have a hard enough time even feeling like I want to be creative on my own. And I could never give an excuse like that to my professors who just expect me to do it. But I don’t feel like i’m going to produce anything that I consider good.
You cross my mind I cross my heart. —————————— I don’t tend to dance, but for you I’d start.
How can everything feel so incredibly, wonderfully perfect there, in those windows? Cascading and delicate notions, both scribbled and lightly crafted, fine, Thought processes revealing only that the nearest actions are both devilish and divine.
Everything just changes. Sooner or later. I don’t think it’s a good idea giving yourself to any one thing and expecting to be happy.
I have been, Here for some time, and you have been, by my side, for a long while. You are so fine, You are divine. I am yours, and you are mine, You are my best friend. You are my best friend. I have been, Here for some time, and you have been, by my side, for a long while. ——- I wrote this song before Bug Eye. It’s simple and relaxing, and It’s always...
I hate myself - for loving you, But you fit me like - my fav-o-rite shoes. And the words out of your lips - are bad news, But honestly, what have - I got - to lose? Shimmering eyes and tattered hair. I think to myself “this just doesn’t seem fair”. And I’m starting to wonder if you even care. My cautious chills mirror playground thrills, with love like the...
I’m not so sure that I want to be rearranged and I’m not so sure why it’s a mission on your part and in your heart.