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mrnncla
mrnncla
17/F/canada tender when i wanna be / lover of film, coffee, language, & nostalgia
I was merely a speck of vitality When I observed you all helpless inside a chanted yet broken record Of conventionality rather than equality Your ignorance, something I will never be able to afford Perhaps I attempted to create my own forked tongue, Succumbing to the toxicity of your belief that love cannot be reciprocated between a certain two, who, Despite your concern about the somatic, Still fight to choose what makes them ecstatic In fact you are in no place to voice such a strident stance, When you do not have the slightest familiarity in the feeling of home being brought straight into your hands, The feeling no type of discouragement could ever destroy: Home as if it were after years and years away among the people of Troy In some nights I could feel the loud beating of my heart so erratic, And in some I found time seemed to stretch on longer than I would favour But all I had to do was look into her eyes which were beyond cinematic To be reminded of why these were the moments I would later most savour I found it within my nature to stick the debris that was a product of your odium Into the the depths of my being, even beside my need for sodium As a result I have outgrown multiple layers of skin, After which my metamorphosis will begin And at once without any resistance, I took flight towards the sky, Because they often said the sky is the limit, I wondered why And as I escaped into the realm of the pleasant unknown, I had made the decision that this was the only measure of contentment I was to condone Finally Finally Finally I am free and most importantly, I am me
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Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 10:16 PM UTC
metamorphosis
I was merely a speck of vitality When I observed you all helpless inside a chanted yet broken record Of conventionality rather than equality Your ignorance, something I will never be able to afford Perhaps I attempted to create my own forked tongue, Succumbing to the toxicity of your belief that love cannot be reciprocated between a certain two, who, Despite your concern about the somatic, Still fight to choose what makes them ecstatic In fact you are in no place to voice such a strident stance, When you do not have the slightest familiarity in the feeling of home being brought straight into your hands, The feeling no type of discouragement could ever destroy: Home as if it were after years and years away among the people of Troy In some nights I could feel the loud beating of my heart so erratic, And in some I found time seemed to stretch on longer than I would favour But all I had to do was look into her eyes which were beyond cinematic To be reminded of why these were the moments I would later most savour I found it within my nature to stick the debris that was a product of your odium Into the the depths of my being, even beside my need for sodium As a result I have outgrown multiple layers of skin, After which my metamorphosis will begin And at once without any resistance, I took flight towards the sky, Because they often said the sky is the limit, I wondered why And as I escaped into the realm of the pleasant unknown, I had made the decision that this was the only measure of contentment I was to condone Finally Finally Finally I am free and most importantly, I am me
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everyday nostalgia sits comfortably on my chest as i ponder upon certain details of my past: the wholesome sound of the combination of the laughter of my family members one christmas evening, and the pool of honey that is my best friend's eye illuminated by the light of a fire during that one winter night, and the smell of dandelions on the verge of dying last spring while walking home from school most especially, there are memories that have way too much power over me which are more general and less focused on details: the one time i stole 2 books from the book store with my friend because there was no way i’d spend $60 on them, and the one time i watched a concert with my friends front-row for free in the summer and being so happy we couldn’t believe it was free, and the many times my friends and i took an unfamiliar bus all the way down to the last stop because i wanna get lost so badly and as my mind presses playback on these memories, i sit and try to decide how to feel, because whether good or bad, a memory is a memory and i am given no choice but to reminisce ultimately it’s a reminder that i’m not in full control of my life, because i can’t be the audience and the actor at the same time i wish i could relive these memories — but i’ve learned there is a good reason i can’t because it is also a reminder that i'm growing, that i'm not the same person i used to be yesterday, that everyday i'm learning new ways to live with what i have and what i am most of all, it's a reminder that i'm alive i may not be in control of what's behind me, but i am in control of what's in front of me, and it's my choice whether there is something beyond we are not given the opportunity to relive certain memories but we are given the privilege to make new ones and although we are stuck in this same old routine of making memories and looking back at them once it’s all over, it’s the peak of what being human is it’s proof that we are making the right choices and spending our days the right way, so much so that we want to relive them it’s a paradox, but i believe it’s life’s way to let us know everything we do is worthwhile and being able to relive something more than once will lose its value and meaning granted, all memories are probably glossed over and fabricated in ways that we want to remember them, but it keeps us wanting more — it keeps us alive
0
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 9:48 AM UTC
passage of time - blessing and a curse
everyday nostalgia sits comfortably on my chest as i ponder upon certain details of my past: the wholesome sound of the combination of the laughter of my family members one christmas evening, and the pool of honey that is my best friend's eye illuminated by the light of a fire during that one winter night, and the smell of dandelions on the verge of dying last spring while walking home from school most especially, there are memories that have way too much power over me which are more general and less focused on details: the one time i stole 2 books from the book store with my friend because there was no way i’d spend $60 on them, and the one time i watched a concert with my friends front-row for free in the summer and being so happy we couldn’t believe it was free, and the many times my friends and i took an unfamiliar bus all the way down to the last stop because i wanna get lost so badly and as my mind presses playback on these memories, i sit and try to decide how to feel, because whether good or bad, a memory is a memory and i am given no choice but to reminisce ultimately it’s a reminder that i’m not in full control of my life, because i can’t be the audience and the actor at the same time i wish i could relive these memories — but i’ve learned there is a good reason i can’t because it is also a reminder that i'm growing, that i'm not the same person i used to be yesterday, that everyday i'm learning new ways to live with what i have and what i am most of all, it's a reminder that i'm alive i may not be in control of what's behind me, but i am in control of what's in front of me, and it's my choice whether there is something beyond we are not given the opportunity to relive certain memories but we are given the privilege to make new ones and although we are stuck in this same old routine of making memories and looking back at them once it’s all over, it’s the peak of what being human is it’s proof that we are making the right choices and spending our days the right way, so much so that we want to relive them it’s a paradox, but i believe it’s life’s way to let us know everything we do is worthwhile and being able to relive something more than once will lose its value and meaning granted, all memories are probably glossed over and fabricated in ways that we want to remember them, but it keeps us wanting more — it keeps us alive
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