(no subject)
inside, a boy sat with a guitar and a microphone, singing softly to a packed coffehouse about love, literature, and life. he sang with his heart, and his fingers miraculously knew which frets to pressure, and which to slowly release. im sure it was because his heart and hands both knew what his mind was thinking and dreaming. the whole coffehouse held their breath for the solo, and let it out as the last notes rung out and faded away.
outside, a girl sat alone on a busy street. knees to chest, and heart in hands. sickness swept over her, and the need to be perfect stepped out and laughed at her. she was feeling alone, which she hadnt felt moments before, but the sickness that overcame her impulses left her feeling disgusting, and lifeless. there was a stinging at the back of her throat, causing her to cough up bits and pieces more of what would have been lunch and dinner. a silver car pulled up, and four heads stared. not in a mean way or a disgusted way. she could tell it was in a concerned way. she looked away. she didnt want pity. seconds later she saw a woman crossing the street and thought nothing of it. the woman greeted her with her eyes, then with her name. knees to chest, her face turned red. she was fine, she didnt want any help. thank you anyway. the woman apparently saw right through it. and her. so she asked if she could help the young girl, if she could try. and slowly, knees still to chest, her eyes welled up. as the woman kneeled down, it became apparent that she was barefoot. in her beautiful red dress, she knelt down, and said the most beautiful words the young girl had heard in a long time. it was everything she never believed in, and everything she cringed over. but it was making her cry, and making her feel as though things could get better. so she finished her words, and looked over at the young girl, heart still in hands, and wished her everything in the world. everything.
thank you lindsey. thank you for caring, and for finding a way to help me when i wouldnt let anyone else. sometimes it takes a stranger's perspective to shake your own.
this leaves me with something to think about. maybe now i have to stop ignoring the question thats being asked. maybe now i will need to reevaluate myself. thank you so much lindsey.
dutton can play the geeetar like a motherfucking riot.
outside, a girl sat alone on a busy street. knees to chest, and heart in hands. sickness swept over her, and the need to be perfect stepped out and laughed at her. she was feeling alone, which she hadnt felt moments before, but the sickness that overcame her impulses left her feeling disgusting, and lifeless. there was a stinging at the back of her throat, causing her to cough up bits and pieces more of what would have been lunch and dinner. a silver car pulled up, and four heads stared. not in a mean way or a disgusted way. she could tell it was in a concerned way. she looked away. she didnt want pity. seconds later she saw a woman crossing the street and thought nothing of it. the woman greeted her with her eyes, then with her name. knees to chest, her face turned red. she was fine, she didnt want any help. thank you anyway. the woman apparently saw right through it. and her. so she asked if she could help the young girl, if she could try. and slowly, knees still to chest, her eyes welled up. as the woman kneeled down, it became apparent that she was barefoot. in her beautiful red dress, she knelt down, and said the most beautiful words the young girl had heard in a long time. it was everything she never believed in, and everything she cringed over. but it was making her cry, and making her feel as though things could get better. so she finished her words, and looked over at the young girl, heart still in hands, and wished her everything in the world. everything.
thank you lindsey. thank you for caring, and for finding a way to help me when i wouldnt let anyone else. sometimes it takes a stranger's perspective to shake your own.
this leaves me with something to think about. maybe now i have to stop ignoring the question thats being asked. maybe now i will need to reevaluate myself. thank you so much lindsey.
dutton can play the geeetar like a motherfucking riot.