Back again
I used to write. Maybe because I used to feel so much. All those feelings are climbing up again. I'm sure it's a good thing. But it's more scary. Here I am thinking about what I can do so that I won't regret anything, then I begin to realize that maybe I'm already regretting. I mean, maybe this is the time I'm supposed to be preparing for.
There's music that I used to hear. I keep finding myself on the floor of my living room in Lakeview in 2006, or 2007? It must have been early summer of 2007, before Seattle. It's 2 AM, then 3 AM, then 4 AM. And I'm laying there with windows open and the cottonwood tree. It's my last memory of being scared, with sinking chest, loneliness. It was also the last time I've been brave, maybe naive, alive.
Something has to change. I can't keep on spending my days like this.
There's music that I used to hear. I keep finding myself on the floor of my living room in Lakeview in 2006, or 2007? It must have been early summer of 2007, before Seattle. It's 2 AM, then 3 AM, then 4 AM. And I'm laying there with windows open and the cottonwood tree. It's my last memory of being scared, with sinking chest, loneliness. It was also the last time I've been brave, maybe naive, alive.
Something has to change. I can't keep on spending my days like this.