I walk through life, writing countless stories. Surely of thousands stories, a dozen would be deaths. Plucking death from life; is plucking seed from a fruit.
What is there to gain? We say life have no reason, purpose, nor excuses. So what say we live?
Plucking the seeds; I witness countless threads. From the bitterness of fate; to the sadness of departure; down to the solitary of loneliness.
I fear fighting those who have nothing, those with nothing find comfort in death. But... is death truly nothing? Life is full, but emptied to the eyes of death; Therefore, I tend to see life as nothing and death as nothing; ultimately, seeing through life and death.
Right now I'm in a limbo, stuck between being a kid and going through adulthood where i'm always depressed, where pressure is always pressed, where my brain is unstable, and where my emotions are unpredictable two choices with many outcome but for now I'll just enjoy this brief misery of my teenage years.
just watched chemical hearts and it really inspired me to make this piece
I wander our old lives, I take the train I always took to see you, I pass the pancake place we never went because it was always too busy at brunch time, and the teriyaki place we went instead that was surprisingly good considering it's emptiness.
I see the Kia dealership I waited in front of, not knowing you were waiting for me a block away on a charming main street.
I see the Mexican treats place where we got deliciously odd flavored paletas, and the pirate golf where we ate mediocre pizza and giggled at cheesy glow-in-the-dark pirates.
But you are not here. You do not greet me at the transit center.
While I revisit old memories, you are exploring our future. You are walking streets we may walk together. Perhaps you are passing restaurants that will become our favorites, a park where a momentous decision will be made, the locations of disappointments and joys yet to come.
Despite the traffic and obvious signs of habitation surrounding me, this place is a ghost town to me. It's not for me anymore.
My present is a limbo between nostalgia and anticipation. My future is with you. I'll join you soon.
the essence of my being is residing somewhere in between in which i would simultaneously like to be left alone and hugged tightly as though i were taking my last breath i want to be held closely and told that i am special and that i matter whilst being afraid of ever loving again somewhere in between a friend and a stranger dressed in confusion black cloak top hat (you look quite ridiculous) i am neither happy nor sad does it even matter? maybe deadened is the word deadened dead end most of the time i am merely in my perpetual state of somewhere in between