how can one be frightened by their own mystique?
there is so much of myself i am unsure of, fear, of what i am capable of.
then led into an eschewed umbra of curiosity.
i have acted in numerous obscure ways,
why can i not just-
one night without the pain of you.
without the pain of my crimes that i may or may not have committed.
and so i'll let myself absorb into a lifeless bleak state of emptiness,
so my other side stays in the dark, disintegrating out of existence.
the distractions i had that always brought me comfort
are now blinded by the drenching misery that waves within me.
the journey to clear opaque waters are too desolate, and are beginning to overflow.
i'll drain the water and let myself evaporate.
this is just how i'm feeling within the topic of losing my comfort motivations. i made everything relate to water, making it (in this case) opaque. instead of filtering the water to let myself be happy, i'll drain it instead. enjoy
there had always been this stillness that the dark blues and sparkling lights brought when the day was no longer bright.
the comfort of the stagnant hours were cherished and perennial,
until the comfort of loneliness began to sting.
recollections of warm blankets and disney movies are now relics of a distant memory.
and now possessed by exile.
the beginning of where's my love by syml gives this writing it's true glory...
even through the eternal equilibrium of detachment i cannot seem to escape,
you see me.
she sees right through me
i really love you...
but if i tell you that, i know i'll only leave.
if i knew how to stay, i'd be next to you a thousand years longer.
you are so patient
and you deserve so much better than me...
i really love you.
but i am too scared to tell you that.
there's a girl...but i know if i acted on my emotions...i'd leave
i've always struggled to understand time.
how it can never seem to wait.
time leaves you breathless, as you're trying to reach back into the present, but always falling farther behind.
time doesn't forgive.
time won't halt its rhythm for you.
it’s selfish, isn't it?
no matter how much someone can try,
everything will keep moving.
like the fan's blades, the pages of the book my eyes can't seem to look away from, or the clock's hands, only ever stopping if the batteries lose its power.
even the beating of my eyes, blinking heavily.
time keeps counting, no matter how much you hate it.
you’ll never be young again, you'll never be in that moment you long to be in forever.
time hates waiting, so it won't.
writing about time
after days of staying in the comfort of my sheets,
i got in my car.
the feeling at first was overwhelming
the desire to wander,
to press my foot to the gas and never let it go.
would it really be so bad if i refused to stop?
if i kept driving until my gas ran empty...
i wonder where i'd end up.
and i'd wonder if my wandering filled the empty want to see places i've never been.
if it didn't go away, where would i go?
how far could i go?