there is a deeper side to me.
i have a passion for love. for life. for vulnerable beauty.
there is a deeper sense to me, one which i cannot touch in the aspect of actual tangibility, though i try. there is that side to me that can look at a person and see right through them.. overlooking all comments from the peanut gallery and whomever else may have said something. i can take one instance from their life and sum up who they are. and no one has taken the time to try and figure me out. and in a way, i dont want them to. i think it adds sex appeal, if you want me to be completely honest.
from the way i do my hair to the way i walk, to the way i dress.. all of it is a pathetic attempt to tell the world im more than just a pretty face.
i have a passion for love. ive been in love. ive had four months, almost five, of barely sleeping because behind my eyelids and swollen tear ducts is a face that cannot leave me. i cant keep my eyes open either, because he is there too.. everywhere i turn. and for haunted nights i have layed here in my shrunked pillow and cried because i can't seem to find anyone else that loves like that that. but i know how love is, and i know how it can tear a soul, and i know how it can mend it. mine is yet to go through that final stage, but if it isnt better, then it isnt over.
life is an unrequited dream. there is no instigation, there is being. there is a love and a desire that makes us want to strive for something better, for something more outrageous, and for something that will make a worthwhile story during happy hour at the 3rd Base pub. we smile and we laugh and we think that maybe one day we will be put in the history books.. hell, even an almanac. or even the obituary section in the newspaper, if our family pays enough for us. regardless of our last wish in life, we live to make it worthwhile. thats why we are who we are. that is why we think that we see what everyone else doesnt.
Everyone in Florida has passed the $5 Roses truck. that big white mini Uhaul looking thing with the empty bleach buckets filled with roses. For longer than I've been living here, that same man has been out with that truck day after day. Occasionally, I'll see a customer. I was lucky enough to be one. I made my dad pull over one day as i got out to get a few for my mom while she was getting her chest tumor removed. Feeling confident, i asked the man how long he had been here.. and he just kinda grinned a toothy smile at me and told me "as long as i need to to stay happy". he handed me my change, and a handshake, hoping the flowers were put to good use.
The $5 Rose Truck Man left me speechless.
My future scares me. MOre than anything. I can look at myself in the mirror and say " lindsay, you are going to be walking downtown one day with a group of girlfriends into a bar, meet up with a guy, and give him your number. and then the rest is up to the imagination.". or i can say " Lindsay, you are going to find a guy better than the one you are currently pining over and he will take your breath away.. and you will walk down the aisle in the most beautiful Vera Wang wedding dress that money can afford and be happy." HOW can that not be scary? It seems so far away.. it's unreal. But it will happen. I need to brace myself.
I have a passion for music.
It is what drives me.. it is what inspires me and intrigues me and intimidates me. This gorgeous girl doesn't usually go out on a Friday night. my CD collection keeps me busy. There are lyrics.. tone.. and emotion. There is a spark of hope, fear, fury, or plain love that has the power to captivate me and make me feel like i'm actually in control. The fact is though, is i'm not. I'm the farthest thing from in control. It becomes personified, and shows me something beyond a record label.
i could be a songwriter;;
just watch me. i'm gonna be famous. i'm gonna show this hellbound world that there is something to live for, and something to have a love for.
comment on this if you read it. I want to hear opinions or anything that youd like to tell me.
there is a deeper sense to me, one which i cannot touch in the aspect of actual tangibility, though i try. there is that side to me that can look at a person and see right through them.. overlooking all comments from the peanut gallery and whomever else may have said something. i can take one instance from their life and sum up who they are. and no one has taken the time to try and figure me out. and in a way, i dont want them to. i think it adds sex appeal, if you want me to be completely honest.
from the way i do my hair to the way i walk, to the way i dress.. all of it is a pathetic attempt to tell the world im more than just a pretty face.
i have a passion for love. ive been in love. ive had four months, almost five, of barely sleeping because behind my eyelids and swollen tear ducts is a face that cannot leave me. i cant keep my eyes open either, because he is there too.. everywhere i turn. and for haunted nights i have layed here in my shrunked pillow and cried because i can't seem to find anyone else that loves like that that. but i know how love is, and i know how it can tear a soul, and i know how it can mend it. mine is yet to go through that final stage, but if it isnt better, then it isnt over.
life is an unrequited dream. there is no instigation, there is being. there is a love and a desire that makes us want to strive for something better, for something more outrageous, and for something that will make a worthwhile story during happy hour at the 3rd Base pub. we smile and we laugh and we think that maybe one day we will be put in the history books.. hell, even an almanac. or even the obituary section in the newspaper, if our family pays enough for us. regardless of our last wish in life, we live to make it worthwhile. thats why we are who we are. that is why we think that we see what everyone else doesnt.
Everyone in Florida has passed the $5 Roses truck. that big white mini Uhaul looking thing with the empty bleach buckets filled with roses. For longer than I've been living here, that same man has been out with that truck day after day. Occasionally, I'll see a customer. I was lucky enough to be one. I made my dad pull over one day as i got out to get a few for my mom while she was getting her chest tumor removed. Feeling confident, i asked the man how long he had been here.. and he just kinda grinned a toothy smile at me and told me "as long as i need to to stay happy". he handed me my change, and a handshake, hoping the flowers were put to good use.
The $5 Rose Truck Man left me speechless.
My future scares me. MOre than anything. I can look at myself in the mirror and say " lindsay, you are going to be walking downtown one day with a group of girlfriends into a bar, meet up with a guy, and give him your number. and then the rest is up to the imagination.". or i can say " Lindsay, you are going to find a guy better than the one you are currently pining over and he will take your breath away.. and you will walk down the aisle in the most beautiful Vera Wang wedding dress that money can afford and be happy." HOW can that not be scary? It seems so far away.. it's unreal. But it will happen. I need to brace myself.
I have a passion for music.
It is what drives me.. it is what inspires me and intrigues me and intimidates me. This gorgeous girl doesn't usually go out on a Friday night. my CD collection keeps me busy. There are lyrics.. tone.. and emotion. There is a spark of hope, fear, fury, or plain love that has the power to captivate me and make me feel like i'm actually in control. The fact is though, is i'm not. I'm the farthest thing from in control. It becomes personified, and shows me something beyond a record label.
i could be a songwriter;;
just watch me. i'm gonna be famous. i'm gonna show this hellbound world that there is something to live for, and something to have a love for.
comment on this if you read it. I want to hear opinions or anything that youd like to tell me.