Time to Waste
(ooc: well, as long as people are starting up with entries...)
I don't even know how long I've been sitting here anymore. Or why it would matter. But it isn't warm, I'll give it that.
I just like the peace. Damp, dark, and quiet. So much contrast from the ship, where there's enough light to blind you when the gang's in full swing. Constant noise. Clumsy noise, not inviting. But then again, not all together without comfort.
The sound of home.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm not going soft, saying things like that. I'm told that's what too much thinking does to you.
Nothing good ever comes out of reading too far into something. Staying street smart is knowing what's on the surface, and that anything below skin deep is nothing but a potential weakness.
I guess that's why Zidane's a hero now and not here with us. And there's something to be said for it, but I'm not going to be the one to say it. ...Let the other's miss him out loud. But I'd curse my own blood before I wrote it in ink.
I don't even know how long I've been sitting here anymore. Or why it would matter. But it isn't warm, I'll give it that.
I just like the peace. Damp, dark, and quiet. So much contrast from the ship, where there's enough light to blind you when the gang's in full swing. Constant noise. Clumsy noise, not inviting. But then again, not all together without comfort.
The sound of home.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm not going soft, saying things like that. I'm told that's what too much thinking does to you.
Nothing good ever comes out of reading too far into something. Staying street smart is knowing what's on the surface, and that anything below skin deep is nothing but a potential weakness.
I guess that's why Zidane's a hero now and not here with us. And there's something to be said for it, but I'm not going to be the one to say it. ...Let the other's miss him out loud. But I'd curse my own blood before I wrote it in ink.