It's not you it's me... I'm sure everyone would hate to be on the receiving end. Well, it is you, which is partially true, but I won't tell you that. You just didn't make it on the list of people I want to invest my time in. You seem nice, but you didn't win the lottery ticket. Some other girl will award you her time, but not this girl. Sorry not sorry.
At 25, you'll read old conversations at night while having coffee you'll think about your life, how you never get enough sleep and thinking ways how to survive work days until weekend it feels like kind of a routine but that's okay, you'll get out of it someday.
wee bit of innocence, left upon the rampant running blindly with an open shield to find self confidence some shred of assurance of guidance praying you'll prey in place of the prey ... in this world, this world, this cruel, cruel, wild, world...
Most of our childhood memories were not printed on photos but in certain biscuits, comic books, sight of the playground where the noises still echoes in our ears, the hugs of our friends, the touch of our mother's care and concern when sickness troubled. And slowly, we drifted away from the state of innocence with a stoical heart to face the music.
“You’re a mess Go to bed Eat some food get some rest Don’t you know it’s easier that way”
Clean my mess Go to bed Buy more food, I’m a wreck Who the hell would know it’s so much easier this way...
There was a voice inside my head, But I may have misheard it I don’t know for sure But would if I knew ears were working I’ve been listening to the earth my ear pressed up against her surface But lessons that I’ve learned could all be crude and oh so worthless
I walk through valleys that are only low as mountains can be high I walk through streets without my shoes beneath the stars and lamppost lights But the questions that I’m asking leave me searching far and wide
It’s like I dug myself a whole and have to see how deep it goes But it’s only six feet under And as an aging hand may lay a rose upon my grave
This is what happens when kids have questions I guess.
There is no such thing as adulting There is no such thing as growing up Biological age cannot be an indicator A source of income cannot be a dictator The drama that disguises you as a sufferer is apt for twitter and synonymous with tumblr You can look like 50 but still behave like a toddler Age, intellect , experience and memory don’t matter Clarity of thought , clarity in action is what everyone wants, just pay attention Stages of life are only byproducts of imagination
