| View Blog
|
|
|
People. Life. Past. Subjected titles of unthoughtful meanings.
As the sea itself touches me slightly on & off I can still feel you everywhere. In the trees, in paintings, in the faces of strangers.
I see you, but you aren't ACTUALLY here. After you drown I promised myself I'd try to be happy, I'd be who you'd want me to be- But, I'm not that girl anymore.
Once I make up my mind it has been set, and no one in the entire world can change that, because as much as love that's in me ; it's equal to my hate. You see, I'm left numb from my past and I've grown immune to remembering it clearly. I want to start over at times, but then I don't know who I'd be...it can just be comfortable knowing who
or what you're dealing with instead. Sometimes I don't even know the words I'm saying or what comes out of my mouth. My thoughts become so horrid,
I feel almost embarrassed listening to what I've said. Is that really who I am? Is that really how I feel? I sit in my small house over looking the ocean. My house....Yes, not "ours" anymore. I feel of complete irony quoting that. It's white, and chipped and any metal you'll see arounds rusted from the salty air. But, the grass is green and the skies are always dim blue. As far as the people around you, this town can turn it's tables ; either everyone knows everything or everyone knows nothing. Being so unable to explain the very imagery of how this picture's put makes your skin crawl with confusion. If you think about anything that's happened, does your enviroment shape you and mold you to be able to say "Since this or that has happened, now this is who you've become." And then you think, there must be some kind of story behind all this ; that maybe somewhere out there someone planned all of this. Or, simply everything that happens happens for a reason,
in other words. We become so oblivious that we don't take the time to see things for what they really are- or in a big world run small just looking out side of the box.
Some people have grown blind, never will truly be able to see what others, what few, see. It's almost like we have to make our life in black and white for them, because in color it's too distracting. In black and white they pay attention to other things....like they way a person uses his or hers word, or the way their hair curls in one direction to teh next- or maybe just even if it was color noticing how they wear blue every Tuesday. I never liked Tuesdays. I feel like everyone got placed to be a certain someone. You're born into a certain family. After you know it, you pick or end up with certain friends, you have a certain job whether you like it or not....and you're either certainly happy, or you're not. I'd put on my navy blue sweater and walk outside, but it's very cold tonight. I'm alone. I guess if my love hadn't gone, then maybe I'd take my chances. If he'd still be here, I wouldn't be writing, I'd be outside and not so cold. He doesn't even have to hold me to make me warm on the coldest night, just knowing that he's there or that he could. But, he's still here with me right? In my heart...and who knows. It's just not the same. I don't see anything the same anymore. Now, I question everything. The sea remains the same though, a good mixture of gray,green and blue. Occasionally ehhhh you might get a bit of purple, and depending on dusk or dawn the sky might reflect which causes half of the town to sit outside at a low degree weather. Something so beautiful pulls you like a magnet, or as if you're tied to a rope...to which we can't resist...or maybe that's only the weak people. They say you're weak if you're a scared being. Then I guess everyone's weak. Everyone is scared of something. You might not be scared of the same thing as one person, but you are scared, or worried about something other. What do we do? We hide. When we are scared, we try to run away from it hoping it won't catch us. It's not the best way to live, being scared everyday of your life...so paranoid...compulsive....depressed..to the point you can lay on yuor floor for hours alone and not get up to do a thing. Why?
Ask yourself who you really are? The only thing that doesnt sound naive is the answer. "Who am I?" "I am happy." And if you can't say that, then you don't even know who you are. You arent "a business man" or "a brunette" or even, "a russian woman" - you are....you. you are....happy. If you arent happy, then what is the point of living?
If you arent in love....or comforted....then what? What is there to feel for?I hate the point of waiting forever. When yuor mind thinks so much older than you are, it drives you literally zane.
You test yourself everyday and come up with these weird thoughts and writing that probably no one would ever think of or talk about even if they did.
No one likes to imagine anymore, because itys gets you no where. Creativity makes the world, don't you see? It makes what you love. From a good old T-shirt, to something someone can do for you. I think tucked down deep inside there's so much waiting to come out of everyone. Don't feel obligated to try. Just find something you love, and make sure it loves you back...and keep up with it. Then you'll always be in love. Then you'll be happy. Behind every closed door awaits what you've always been looking for.
Maybe what you've been looking for is right where you left it.
|
|
Posted by FartherThanAlaska on 2008-03-10 19:30:26 | Rating: | Views: 51
|
| |
|
|
