(no subject)
The terrifying thing about life is that I feel like a science experiment, like I’m a guinea pig in the study of the development of the human heart. Every year that passes I can feel myself changing but it’s itchy and I resent it. I should have my hand to my forehead looking out ahead and go on. But I feel the loss so strongly; the loss of friends across oceans and continents, the loss of ex-lovers, the loss of my homes, the growing of my bones. Like magic, poof. You’re brand new again, what do you do?
And how tragic it is I should find what tortures me is the big-picture: the only thing I crave more than collecting my past (oh perspective, my burden).
I've only felt the present a handful of times.
I go on to find it again.
(the thing is, it's never where i left it)
And how tragic it is I should find what tortures me is the big-picture: the only thing I crave more than collecting my past (oh perspective, my burden).
I've only felt the present a handful of times.
I go on to find it again.
(the thing is, it's never where i left it)