'Tired souls wander throughout time.
Three hundred days
and sixty-five nights,
restlessly awaits change.
Time has gone no where that it has not wandered.
Thus, nothing is lost.
One event and change.
Quickly, movement hurts opinions.
Everyone is someone,
but individuals are all the same.
Pain and desperation are friends,
but the best are hate and love.
The words insisted have pestered us,
what beliefs held are sacred.
While everything could be thrown
like knives into a target board.
No compromise is the light,
a tunnel only one may pass through.
The lectures are unnecessary.
Why is the child told about predators,
when she is one who met one already?
She hasn't conquered her incident,
but the speeches about dangers
will only slow the progress.
The year passing
expectations arise and fall.
Hope conquers all.
Wishes are known.
Resolutions lead us forward.
The future is made by aspirations,
and failure.'
Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
November the Twenty-Seventh of Two Thousand and Ten
There are only four days until he leaves.
I won the second poker game. It wasn't very likely, and I wasn't counting on it, but it all works out to my favor. Except for those two girls. But, this is high school drama and if those bitches want to fuck with me, they can just come and try. And Dear God, she looks so ugly with her bitch face. And I was there, ready to give her an honest, wholesome chance. I'm very shy with girls (especially new people) and she just wrote me off. Well, fine. But trust me, girl, you did not make any friends be a clammed-up bitch.
It's weird. I think I just get a little defensive about it because I know that he liked her. She's known him for forever, and he would never have been with me if she was waiting for him. However, she has no hope now. Yet, there is this ever present jealousy of what they shared and what could have been for them. And how, maybe, if he got too drunk (or something) she could win him back. No matter how much I don't like being jealous, it just happens. And I worry. I don't want to lose him.
I don't know what to say. TO either of you. The transition has come, and I have my voice now. I am ready to use it.
You won't push me down.
'Many memories create a dream,
many hopes create it.
What we remember is really what we've forgotten.
And, if you forget me,
will you remember what we have?'
I won the second poker game. It wasn't very likely, and I wasn't counting on it, but it all works out to my favor. Except for those two girls. But, this is high school drama and if those bitches want to fuck with me, they can just come and try. And Dear God, she looks so ugly with her bitch face. And I was there, ready to give her an honest, wholesome chance. I'm very shy with girls (especially new people) and she just wrote me off. Well, fine. But trust me, girl, you did not make any friends be a clammed-up bitch.
It's weird. I think I just get a little defensive about it because I know that he liked her. She's known him for forever, and he would never have been with me if she was waiting for him. However, she has no hope now. Yet, there is this ever present jealousy of what they shared and what could have been for them. And how, maybe, if he got too drunk (or something) she could win him back. No matter how much I don't like being jealous, it just happens. And I worry. I don't want to lose him.
I don't know what to say. TO either of you. The transition has come, and I have my voice now. I am ready to use it.
You won't push me down.
'Many memories create a dream,
many hopes create it.
What we remember is really what we've forgotten.
And, if you forget me,
will you remember what we have?'
Saturday, December 25, 2010
December the Twenty-Fifth of Two Thousand and Ten
Dear Douglas Adams, I haven't called NASA yet. But, I'm pretty sure I will. And the White House, at that. What's more is that I hope you actually gave me their numbers and I then have to pay a giant bill for the phone. Because I have hope for you, and your book.
You know, world, I worry a lot about her. In only five months, we'll both be walking away from a place where we are supported and into the unknown. However, I'm walking away into some sort of security with people and money. She walks away with some fucked up idea of life will be without a driver's permit or money that is accessible. But, that's not the only reason I worry. She isn't as innocent as she acts, world. There is some reason why everyone hates her, but if you're not on her side, then obviously you're completely against her. If you betray her once, she attacks with no regrets. She did it recently. But seriously, there's something wrong with her logic. She won't let it go. And that's what worries me.
I'm stuck in a debate. Between logic/reason and want. I know that my major will be psychology. However, I don't know what I want to minor in. Most likely, music. I think. But it would be more practical to minor in CJ. But, yet, it might be even more practical to minor in pre-med. However, you can't really minor in medicine and get any credit for it; thus, double major. So, I'll take a double major between psychology and medicine with a minor in CJ and some extra music classes for keeping up.
I hope this isn't my last post of 2010.
'Jolly feelings float throughout the holiday home,
and smiles warm teh air.
A small light brings fragrance to this,
and breaks into heart.'
You know, world, I worry a lot about her. In only five months, we'll both be walking away from a place where we are supported and into the unknown. However, I'm walking away into some sort of security with people and money. She walks away with some fucked up idea of life will be without a driver's permit or money that is accessible. But, that's not the only reason I worry. She isn't as innocent as she acts, world. There is some reason why everyone hates her, but if you're not on her side, then obviously you're completely against her. If you betray her once, she attacks with no regrets. She did it recently. But seriously, there's something wrong with her logic. She won't let it go. And that's what worries me.
I'm stuck in a debate. Between logic/reason and want. I know that my major will be psychology. However, I don't know what I want to minor in. Most likely, music. I think. But it would be more practical to minor in CJ. But, yet, it might be even more practical to minor in pre-med. However, you can't really minor in medicine and get any credit for it; thus, double major. So, I'll take a double major between psychology and medicine with a minor in CJ and some extra music classes for keeping up.
I hope this isn't my last post of 2010.
'Jolly feelings float throughout the holiday home,
and smiles warm teh air.
A small light brings fragrance to this,
and breaks into heart.'
Monday, December 20, 2010
December the Twentieth of Two Thousand and Ten
I wish I could post on the SA Forums sometimes. I mean, obviously, they kind of know what they're talking about. At one point on Page Two, someone asks why Alex carries around a camera all the time. As far as I've read, they haven't found the answer that is my theory. I, personally, think it's very obvious why Alex was carrying around a camera. Once he realized he was being stalked, I'm sure he wanted evidence. However, it slowly progressed to him realizing that he didn't remember what was happening (and thus, the orange memory pills). But, those weren't working either. So, Alex thinks, now what? Video. Whether it was Slender Man or Alex who distorted the video, it doesn't matter. Video evidence is irreplaceable. Alex, a film student, would know this. So, when he can't remember, he videotapes, because then he will.
You know, months of hard work won't fit into less than twenty videos. Where is the other work? Everything is important, Jay.
I've been feeling a lot of rage lately. At so many people. It's weird, but I know I've been pretty snappy lately. However, as soon as I saw you, I feel into happiness. I'm sure I've been happy in a while. Like, really happy. That satisfaction that is only given and can't just happen (or, at least, that's what I believe). He just makes me feel that way.
I love to hate you.
I don't like it when we fight; I don't like to hurt you, doll. I just want you to know that the silence isn't hatred, it's simple anger. It's not that I don't want to work things out, it's that I don't want to yell at you.
'Dancing through a sky of fish,
swimming through a sea of moons.
Smile spreads across your face.
-Nudge nudge-
You're next to me.'
You know, months of hard work won't fit into less than twenty videos. Where is the other work? Everything is important, Jay.
I've been feeling a lot of rage lately. At so many people. It's weird, but I know I've been pretty snappy lately. However, as soon as I saw you, I feel into happiness. I'm sure I've been happy in a while. Like, really happy. That satisfaction that is only given and can't just happen (or, at least, that's what I believe). He just makes me feel that way.
I love to hate you.
I don't like it when we fight; I don't like to hurt you, doll. I just want you to know that the silence isn't hatred, it's simple anger. It's not that I don't want to work things out, it's that I don't want to yell at you.
'Dancing through a sky of fish,
swimming through a sea of moons.
Smile spreads across your face.
-Nudge nudge-
You're next to me.'
Sunday, December 12, 2010
December the Twelfth of Two Thousand and Ten
WARNING: THIS BLOG WILL BE EXCESSIVELY FLORID AND GARRULOUS!
This is the simple story of six wily characters who all got together one day. Our fighting did not come from a wraith (as Hamlet's did), but from our own zeal. I thought that the climax of this fight had already happened, but I fear that the zenith is yet to come.
We've all had some sort of accretion since the initial incident. (Some have been able to use their growth to aggrandize themselves too). But I could also say that we have all become more fecund, because we now know how to deal with our lives and how to cope and cope fast. We learn. We're learning. However, I doubt I have grown at all. The only thing I have done is tried to keep a fetid lie behind my back. Everyone kind of knows it's there, but they can't say it's mine because there isn't proof. And everyday, my strength flags and I fall. I give in to hatred of secrets and furthermore, myself. But by some scrap of home, something fortuitous, that has left me with all of my friends. But are they really my friends if I can't talk to them? I feel frenetic every time I'm around you, because I want you to know. But I'm still garnering the courage to say.
However, the true fear I possess is of your anger. I want to be your friend, I want to so bad. There are all these endless reasons. I'm very wiling to do anything for you, but I'm afraid of your glower. That one look can tear me down and destroy me inside. Not in a way of gradations, but straight forward-so quick, so fast, and without a second glance. Oh, how I don't want to lose you. But if you become implacable, then that's that. And there I am, without something I never wanted to lose. And this isn't to say that you're irascible, but when something angers you, I know I can lose you easily because your anger is scary. Almost as if it consumes you, but the sanity remains.
She tells me that I', being guile for not telling you. She says that when I tell you, things will be better. But, if they aren't, I guess I'll kind of deserve it. I mean, maybe I just say I'm not lying because I'm trying to weaken my crimes, but anything but complete truth is a lie.
If my dreams were a man, his beard would be hoary from being so old. Each one is the same, but is so wrong all the same. They represent iconoclasts, everything which I shouldn't think. Every idiosyncrasy I've ever felt for you. My dreams are about me being impetuous. I remember being close to you, and wanting to kiss you, but you tell me (in such a nice way) that you aren't comfortable with it, and I back away (guilty and ashamed). Then I wake up in n inexorable panic and the only cure is lying there for a few minutes going, "You're alright; it was just a dream." Then I inter my head in my pillow and wish that all this confusion would go away.
My attraction to many people I could call kinetic (or maybe like magnets), but all the same. But my feelings for you are an anomaly, because they should never have existed. Not to say they still do, but they did. I remember, that everything (originally) was a scam for jealousy. That's why everything was so funny and "ironic" back then. Now, the feelings are gone, and everything is serious, but these dreams harass me like bugs in summer. I feel like I can't ameliorate myself either, but then again, maybe that's because I don't think I have the right. I really don't. I've been a bad person, I don't deserve to be someone saved in the end of the world. I don't deserve any analgesia from the pain I caused myself; that's logical, isn't it? Why do I keep asking? There must be some human confirmation that I need.
You know what I find odd? That people will ask me for advice. Of all people! I complicate my own life, I'm so surprised that anyone thinks I'd have the proper answer for them. Even I know that I have apocryphal things about me when it comes to life circumstances. Obviously, I have no idea what I'm doing. I've been an apostate of so many religions. I've been without friends and turned my back on some of the closest. I've broken so many hearts. I'm sure Satan already has a seat for me.
My ardor for you hasn't left. As I blog my words attenuate me and make me wish to call everything out. I want to feel like I can call myself august, because I want to be able to tell the world. I feel like my who bevy of friends are denied the truth. That's it! I'm tired of trying to bifurcate myself to be pleasing to everyone! WHY CAN'T I JUST BE ME? I'm sad that we can't all agree and still be people just because we don't share the same opinions.
Don't blight the friendship we have. That's not my intention. I'm not going to turn this into some ignorant and blithe situation and just go off into rants about him. No, I'll shut my face if you don't want to hear it. I just want to bolster our friendship, but I don't know if you'll let me. Maybe you'll form a cabal to hate me, but that's alright. I'll understand. If you want to be candid with me, then do it. If I have anything to my favor, at least I understand. I don't need someone with cartography to figure out where something is going. I know when I'm being castigated.
There are caustic people in my life, those who are ready to fire back every day.I know the chauvinists and the feminists, the democrats and republicans, the war hawks and the peaceful doves. What makes their fighting so cloying are the days that feel like they never end, and then the fighting will continue forever. No coffer can contain the riches to hold something that makes these days pass faster. Maybe they're just days that have some sort of collusion, something planned to make life infinitely terrible. Can someone condone me for wishing that life weren't so evil? For having some hope in this world? But I am quite contrite with my behavior, believe it or not.
I thought I was craven, but I'm proving to have some amount of courage.But I am also proving not be as credulous as I thought. Or am I? I've been pretty solid in my beliefs, despite the valid point.Maybe I'm just some curmudgeon, but young. I am not decorous! I refuse to have the decorum in my life! I'm not some societal girl. I have the right to demur about this Earth and dammit, I will!(Maybe I'm deriding myself by doing this.) My dictum is strong. My way of dissemblance is a weak way to avoid what I shouldn't have. I understand that my happiness and yours are a dissonance, but all the same. If you don't want to talk about it, neither do I.
I have my doctrinaires. Others have their droll friends. Others are easily duped. And some are those preppy girls who are so ebullient. All of them make up an eclectic of friends and lifestyles. Their opinions make an overwhelming efficacy for seeing the world. Then, you know what you're missing, or see things you can't see. They don't emulate the world you've already seen, but reveal a brand new one. Their disease isn't one endemic to your life, the home you've already seen. They bring a perspective that shines a light onto the dark room you thought you knew. They engender a new hope and new happiness. That is what makes people so great. Everyone sees through different eyes. Whether the friendship is ephemeral or it lasts forever, it is important. I want us to be the latter.
'Where are the erudite men,
with the dollish girls?
The cacophony of screams
when the effigies lose.
The bodies are desiccated,
but the diatribe continues?
I distend across the waters of your heart,
I am ready to drown.'
This is the simple story of six wily characters who all got together one day. Our fighting did not come from a wraith (as Hamlet's did), but from our own zeal. I thought that the climax of this fight had already happened, but I fear that the zenith is yet to come.
We've all had some sort of accretion since the initial incident. (Some have been able to use their growth to aggrandize themselves too). But I could also say that we have all become more fecund, because we now know how to deal with our lives and how to cope and cope fast. We learn. We're learning. However, I doubt I have grown at all. The only thing I have done is tried to keep a fetid lie behind my back. Everyone kind of knows it's there, but they can't say it's mine because there isn't proof. And everyday, my strength flags and I fall. I give in to hatred of secrets and furthermore, myself. But by some scrap of home, something fortuitous, that has left me with all of my friends. But are they really my friends if I can't talk to them? I feel frenetic every time I'm around you, because I want you to know. But I'm still garnering the courage to say.
However, the true fear I possess is of your anger. I want to be your friend, I want to so bad. There are all these endless reasons. I'm very wiling to do anything for you, but I'm afraid of your glower. That one look can tear me down and destroy me inside. Not in a way of gradations, but straight forward-so quick, so fast, and without a second glance. Oh, how I don't want to lose you. But if you become implacable, then that's that. And there I am, without something I never wanted to lose. And this isn't to say that you're irascible, but when something angers you, I know I can lose you easily because your anger is scary. Almost as if it consumes you, but the sanity remains.
She tells me that I', being guile for not telling you. She says that when I tell you, things will be better. But, if they aren't, I guess I'll kind of deserve it. I mean, maybe I just say I'm not lying because I'm trying to weaken my crimes, but anything but complete truth is a lie.
If my dreams were a man, his beard would be hoary from being so old. Each one is the same, but is so wrong all the same. They represent iconoclasts, everything which I shouldn't think. Every idiosyncrasy I've ever felt for you. My dreams are about me being impetuous. I remember being close to you, and wanting to kiss you, but you tell me (in such a nice way) that you aren't comfortable with it, and I back away (guilty and ashamed). Then I wake up in n inexorable panic and the only cure is lying there for a few minutes going, "You're alright; it was just a dream." Then I inter my head in my pillow and wish that all this confusion would go away.
My attraction to many people I could call kinetic (or maybe like magnets), but all the same. But my feelings for you are an anomaly, because they should never have existed. Not to say they still do, but they did. I remember, that everything (originally) was a scam for jealousy. That's why everything was so funny and "ironic" back then. Now, the feelings are gone, and everything is serious, but these dreams harass me like bugs in summer. I feel like I can't ameliorate myself either, but then again, maybe that's because I don't think I have the right. I really don't. I've been a bad person, I don't deserve to be someone saved in the end of the world. I don't deserve any analgesia from the pain I caused myself; that's logical, isn't it? Why do I keep asking? There must be some human confirmation that I need.
You know what I find odd? That people will ask me for advice. Of all people! I complicate my own life, I'm so surprised that anyone thinks I'd have the proper answer for them. Even I know that I have apocryphal things about me when it comes to life circumstances. Obviously, I have no idea what I'm doing. I've been an apostate of so many religions. I've been without friends and turned my back on some of the closest. I've broken so many hearts. I'm sure Satan already has a seat for me.
My ardor for you hasn't left. As I blog my words attenuate me and make me wish to call everything out. I want to feel like I can call myself august, because I want to be able to tell the world. I feel like my who bevy of friends are denied the truth. That's it! I'm tired of trying to bifurcate myself to be pleasing to everyone! WHY CAN'T I JUST BE ME? I'm sad that we can't all agree and still be people just because we don't share the same opinions.
Don't blight the friendship we have. That's not my intention. I'm not going to turn this into some ignorant and blithe situation and just go off into rants about him. No, I'll shut my face if you don't want to hear it. I just want to bolster our friendship, but I don't know if you'll let me. Maybe you'll form a cabal to hate me, but that's alright. I'll understand. If you want to be candid with me, then do it. If I have anything to my favor, at least I understand. I don't need someone with cartography to figure out where something is going. I know when I'm being castigated.
There are caustic people in my life, those who are ready to fire back every day.I know the chauvinists and the feminists, the democrats and republicans, the war hawks and the peaceful doves. What makes their fighting so cloying are the days that feel like they never end, and then the fighting will continue forever. No coffer can contain the riches to hold something that makes these days pass faster. Maybe they're just days that have some sort of collusion, something planned to make life infinitely terrible. Can someone condone me for wishing that life weren't so evil? For having some hope in this world? But I am quite contrite with my behavior, believe it or not.
I thought I was craven, but I'm proving to have some amount of courage.But I am also proving not be as credulous as I thought. Or am I? I've been pretty solid in my beliefs, despite the valid point.Maybe I'm just some curmudgeon, but young. I am not decorous! I refuse to have the decorum in my life! I'm not some societal girl. I have the right to demur about this Earth and dammit, I will!(Maybe I'm deriding myself by doing this.) My dictum is strong. My way of dissemblance is a weak way to avoid what I shouldn't have. I understand that my happiness and yours are a dissonance, but all the same. If you don't want to talk about it, neither do I.
I have my doctrinaires. Others have their droll friends. Others are easily duped. And some are those preppy girls who are so ebullient. All of them make up an eclectic of friends and lifestyles. Their opinions make an overwhelming efficacy for seeing the world. Then, you know what you're missing, or see things you can't see. They don't emulate the world you've already seen, but reveal a brand new one. Their disease isn't one endemic to your life, the home you've already seen. They bring a perspective that shines a light onto the dark room you thought you knew. They engender a new hope and new happiness. That is what makes people so great. Everyone sees through different eyes. Whether the friendship is ephemeral or it lasts forever, it is important. I want us to be the latter.
'Where are the erudite men,
with the dollish girls?
The cacophony of screams
when the effigies lose.
The bodies are desiccated,
but the diatribe continues?
I distend across the waters of your heart,
I am ready to drown.'
Saturday, December 11, 2010
December the Eleventh of Two Thouand and Ten
Did you realize that today was twelve, eleven, ten? Unfortunately, we've already passed 9:08:07:06:05:04:03:02:01. That shit is legit.
Onto actual things that mean something. There's something inside of me, something which is impossible to describe. Almost like anticipation, but yet it is not anticipation and more like fear. Which leads me to second the theory that "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." However, I must contradict myself because there's always some logic behind the fear that we all have. Girls have the right to fear stalkers because we grow up on the stories of how weak we are and the creepers in this world. Men are afraid of disapproval (most often) because men are supposed to be proud and masculine, but if they falter from it, they fear the worst. We all have something to fear, but the fear itself makes it worse, so to speak.
I know it seems like I'm going no where, but "If this be madness,/then there is method in it." I fear your disapproval. The hatred that you so easily throw about makes me cringe and curl up into a ball, no matter the unimportance to others. I value your friendship highly, I have for the last year, and I don't know what else to say.
Deep breaths take in when I am around you. Never has such dread and eager anticipation approached me at the same time as you have made it. I cannot say that I have never felt this before, but it has been different than anything I have valued before. Someone, irresistible is not who I a, or (it could be) that it was never expressed before.
You story is sacred, but I have heard it before. I feel that something else gets you. However, I do not know.
'Deary heart tender held,
fallen once before.
What does a broken piece mean?
Starlight nights define us.
And secrets kept between.'
Onto actual things that mean something. There's something inside of me, something which is impossible to describe. Almost like anticipation, but yet it is not anticipation and more like fear. Which leads me to second the theory that "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." However, I must contradict myself because there's always some logic behind the fear that we all have. Girls have the right to fear stalkers because we grow up on the stories of how weak we are and the creepers in this world. Men are afraid of disapproval (most often) because men are supposed to be proud and masculine, but if they falter from it, they fear the worst. We all have something to fear, but the fear itself makes it worse, so to speak.
I know it seems like I'm going no where, but "If this be madness,/then there is method in it." I fear your disapproval. The hatred that you so easily throw about makes me cringe and curl up into a ball, no matter the unimportance to others. I value your friendship highly, I have for the last year, and I don't know what else to say.
Deep breaths take in when I am around you. Never has such dread and eager anticipation approached me at the same time as you have made it. I cannot say that I have never felt this before, but it has been different than anything I have valued before. Someone, irresistible is not who I a, or (it could be) that it was never expressed before.
You story is sacred, but I have heard it before. I feel that something else gets you. However, I do not know.
'Deary heart tender held,
fallen once before.
What does a broken piece mean?
Starlight nights define us.
And secrets kept between.'
Sunday, December 5, 2010
December the Fifth of Two Thousand and Ten
I think things are finally settling back on normal. I think. Everything doesn't seem so angry and hostile, but that's because every word I say is a lie. It hurts to know this, and to say this, but at least I may speak the truth once, if only. Because, at least you will know, if ever, here. Instead of from someone. Yet, I cannot fully determine the truth. Where does absolute truth lie?
I keep wanting to say something that changes every day. You're right, why should I be tied down when I can't make up my mind? But, I keep getting more and more set. I don't know what to say anymore than he's not going in the friend zone, even though I said I would put him there. He's mine. We established it.
Don't think anger will break me out of this. I made a mistake, and it was fixed, to your disgust. I can't keep lying to you. So, ask me.
'Where does the water break?
Something you can hold,
but never shape.
However, I am earth,
falling to bending and shaping.
Hold me, love me,
without someone,
I am nothing.'
I keep wanting to say something that changes every day. You're right, why should I be tied down when I can't make up my mind? But, I keep getting more and more set. I don't know what to say anymore than he's not going in the friend zone, even though I said I would put him there. He's mine. We established it.
Don't think anger will break me out of this. I made a mistake, and it was fixed, to your disgust. I can't keep lying to you. So, ask me.
'Where does the water break?
Something you can hold,
but never shape.
However, I am earth,
falling to bending and shaping.
Hold me, love me,
without someone,
I am nothing.'
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
December the First of Two Thousand and Ten
Whate a broken, tragic road we walk on. When we travel, our souls beat against the gum stained (or the matter of spit and rubber itself) path. Yet, where do we go? The answer is simple: On with our lives. Just like everyone else in this world, we just keep going forward, on with our days, seconds, hours, minutes, weeks, and just keep going. Wait! I want to take a step back. I need a moment to think about things...to think about you.
Not everyone stands over a brook. A creek just like where Ophelia died. Who is everyone, though? I certainly am not, neither are you, or you, or you. ["WHO IS ME?!"] Over the small river I stand, I am held not by balance, but by opposites. On one side, there is truth and care. On the other, there are falshoods. What side of me will win? Which magnet will flip? Or, which one will flip around and match the other.
"Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!" I am a liar, and a betrayer. Easiest to fall apart, but easiest to put back together. Is that the sacrifice is should make? (My inability to chose renders that all be sacrificed to the Earth). I hate to admit when you are right, and you know it; I have told you before. Just like a ball in a hallway, you know how my behavioral patterns fall. Life, what choice do I make? To repeat actions past, or to lose actions future?
'Kas aš esu, bet jūs,
Tik laiko pertraukos mus.
Pamiršote begalinis liūdesys
ir kad žalias kamuolys.'
Not everyone stands over a brook. A creek just like where Ophelia died. Who is everyone, though? I certainly am not, neither are you, or you, or you. ["WHO IS ME?!"] Over the small river I stand, I am held not by balance, but by opposites. On one side, there is truth and care. On the other, there are falshoods. What side of me will win? Which magnet will flip? Or, which one will flip around and match the other.
"Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!" I am a liar, and a betrayer. Easiest to fall apart, but easiest to put back together. Is that the sacrifice is should make? (My inability to chose renders that all be sacrificed to the Earth). I hate to admit when you are right, and you know it; I have told you before. Just like a ball in a hallway, you know how my behavioral patterns fall. Life, what choice do I make? To repeat actions past, or to lose actions future?
'Kas aš esu, bet jūs,
Tik laiko pertraukos mus.
Pamiršote begalinis liūdesys
ir kad žalias kamuolys.'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)