Someday my pain
Its bright out, and the house is so cold. I needed to warm myself in the sunlight, lay in the grass and listen to music. Darkness descends quickly and my complete emersion into the grass is abruptly stopped as a single page from a newpaper lands on me. As I pick it up Ellie Gouldings amazing cover of The Wolves starts to play, and the picture of an old lady in a garden catches my gaze on the paper thats tarnished yellow. I start reading about this ladys thats retired, but turning a small part of her block into a beautiful garden. The oneness she feels when planting small seeds and bulbs, then watch them grow and bloom. Start deep in the dirt and claw their way to the sky and transform into new beautiful shapes. The quickly growing darkness gives way to a sudden shower. The raindrops wetting my lips as I mouth the words Im reading. As the article, storm, and song all decided to collectivally end, the slow heartfelt, and harmonized repetition of the words "someday my pain" play, and envelope me, and give me the reassurance I needed to keep doing exactly what I've been doing. A dream doesnt have to be big, but having one, holding it closer than a lovers embrace, is all thats truely important to me. I sleep on maybe a matress on the floor, a couch, a futon, a small patch of grass, no bed. I eat ramen, and crackers while everyone goes out for steak, I have really nothing thats my own, and at times I'm sure I live in the 7th circle of hell. But I've got more than most people will ever understand, and nobody can ever change it.