(no subject)
it's funny when life is going good... and things are moving fine... there never seems to be anything to write... but as soon as someone sneaks into that mind of ours... stir things around... it seems to open up and flow like a broken dam.
*
i suddenly had a sprout of white hairs on my head. every day i seem to find a new one. so i think to myself... maybe there's significance to it. now... what if... each hair on your head is a memory. every strand a sweet moment. new hair grows to capture new memories. fallen hairs represent the memories we've forgotten. the curly damaged hairs are the bad memories... because nothing can ever be completely perfect. and the white ones? well, the white ones are the dead memories we just can't seem to let go of. and each time you try to pull it out... make it a part of the memories we try to forget... two more grows in its place.
*
i suddenly had a sprout of white hairs on my head. every day i seem to find a new one. so i think to myself... maybe there's significance to it. now... what if... each hair on your head is a memory. every strand a sweet moment. new hair grows to capture new memories. fallen hairs represent the memories we've forgotten. the curly damaged hairs are the bad memories... because nothing can ever be completely perfect. and the white ones? well, the white ones are the dead memories we just can't seem to let go of. and each time you try to pull it out... make it a part of the memories we try to forget... two more grows in its place.