Today, for the first time in my life, I said something genuinely rude to someone, played it off as a joke, but really meant it in that mean way. I think I still have some respect for this person, but I’m finding it incredibly difficult to hold onto that. Today is not my day, but I know that a bad day does not mean a bad life.
I think the thing I miss most being away from home besides the obvious things like my parents, my room, and my own bed, is my violin. I miss the feel of the stings underneath my fingertips, the wood of my bow in my other hand, the occasional bits of rosin dust on my clothing. I miss the dark mark of my violin hickey on the side of my jaw, and my back feeling sore from sitting straight for so long. I miss the fluidity of the movement I was able to produce, and the oxymoronic smooth rigidness of a staccato beat. I miss the notes ringing fortissimo and pianissimo, all somehow resonating both inside me and outside of me. I miss the harmonies and layering of other instruments and other musicians. But mostly, I miss the way I was able to express myself through my instrument, not needing any words at all.
I’m simply torn by the complexity of the fact that I am
helplessly, irrationally, without a doubt, madly
In love with the idea of you.
I have this strange notion that sometimes
You burn bright like the amber of a black cat’s eyes
And the galaxy on a perfectly clear, dark night.
I’ve seen in my dreams the flicker of fear in your eyes
That someday you might die
And no one will be by your side.
It was back in reality that you gave me a look
And a glimmer of hope was all I took.
We cast our silhouettes along the banks of laughter
And gather the pieces to fill in the mosaic of
A life that we are desperate to live.
I think this is what makes me love you most
Because you simply want to feel
And not boast
So I’ll keep you at a daydream’s distance
To avoid ruining something we never had
And life will go on just as it is
And there’s simply no going back.
Blind Pilot - “Half Moon”
This disgusts me. If you’re a healthcare professional and you’re doing it for the money, you’re doing it wrong.
A familiar view that I’ve missed. #nofilter (Taken with Instagram)
Do you wear contacts?
Are they colored?
Sometimes your eyes look purple.
Oh? I’ve been told grey before, but never purple.
I used to know someone who would wear purple contacts.
Sounds a little creepy.
It wasn’t really.
One last beat.
Maybe I should get purple contacts.
Well, you don’t need them.
There are smiles on both ends of the conversation.
And averted eyes.
Just a moment -
It was gone just as soon as it came.
Daughter - Youth
I spent my time talking to the moon
But really I was only thinking of you
And what it might be like to say these things
To your face, instead of the unchanging
One of the moon.
You might have smiled or laughed
As I tried to hide that
Bright red tint on my cheeks
And the uneven rhythm of my breath.
I though about what it might be like
To breathe you.
Slowly filling my lungs with everything so pure
Feeling that ecstasy and that thrill.
That rush, did you feel it?
Just under our skins, electricity sending
Enticing shocks, racing thoughts,
You think these things, too.
I know you do.
But the truth is,
Even if our pieces were to fall together forever
We would still never be complete.
These are just poetic verses
And poison words,
Driving us to the brink of insanity,
Right off of the cliffs of our dreams,
Where we will undoubtedly shatter,
And shattered we will remain.
Friends in the dark. Gasworks 2012. (Taken with instagram)
Secrets. We all have them, we all keep them, we all love them. I love them. The way I can wrap myself in them like a blanket, cocooning myself in warmth. Sometimes it’s ice. Not just my secrets, but the secrets of others. Things they tell me, things I find out about them. Terrible things. Wicked things. Splendid things. And inside my head they remain, cataloged by the thousands. They get packed in, one on top of the other, things I’m not supposed to know, things you don’t think I know. Some you confide in me, and others you don’t. Oh, but I know. It’s all here in my head. You mean to say one thing, but you’ve said something completely different, and I’ve captured it. So much more is revealed than intended, and it’s wonderful. Sometimes they want to spill out of my lips, but I quickly bite them back. Maybe for you, or maybe for me, but they never get told. I may be conceited enough to want to be the sole owner of some things, or I may be so caring that I want to hurt no one. So I let you live your life thinking I don’t know so you can have your sense of security, and I’ll carry on pretending to know only what you’d like for me to know, and like this we’ll coexist. And this is life as we know it.
Careful now, I’m not sure you meant to tell me that.
I wish I had taken more pictures back in High School. Pictures with my friends, just hanging out, having a good time. I regret it now. I really regret it. I was always one for living in the moment, who needs pictures? I always thought it to be a bit shallow, vain even, but now, I wish I had physical proof of a life well lived. I had a great solid group of friends. We always had each others backs. We never had a falling out. We stuck it through together through all of the good and the bad. None of my friends were picture takers. Not one. I don’t think any of us has a substantial amount of pictures from parties, dances, trips, or anything. Will our memories fade with us? How much can we keep alive? I think I need to become a picture taker.
I can feel you fading away
Because of what, I can’t say
Looking for that fleeting moment of satisfaction
The kind that only lasts miliseconds
You’re keeping secrets
Hiding things as if I’ll disapprove
Do you even know me at all?
Running from me in a mad dash
I’m losing my breath as I can’t keep up
So much darkness
But do you feel free?
Is this what you wanted?
Is this what you needed?
Finding yourself as you forget about me
Should I let you fade away
Or should I beg you to stay?