the while-the-roomies-are-out post
i'm a hopeless romantic. i deny it every chance i get to be dramatic, but i believe in love; it's the only thing. i believe in fate and destiny and second chances and that people who suffer get the best of everything in the end. everything is significant and nothing should go unnoticed. craziness and abandon and dancing barefoot on new spring grass and hugging kids who love you and listening to music that sings right in your heart and reading poetry that your mind knows it has already lived and kisses that mean something and people laughing and watching families just be families and finding perfect pens to write with. these make life worth living and living worth loving and i'm holding onto it like it's a steering wheel and i'm a new driver. look at my white knuckles.
i'm afraid. deathly afraid that everything i believe in is just those little blocks in that kids game "don't break the ice." someday, someone's gonna take that little green hammer and hit the wrong block; all the other blocks will fall; the little ice-skating polar bear will lie lifelessly on the carpet and me and all the other kids playing will start crying and trying to put the pieces back in. the guy with the hammer will stand there smiling. he knows something we don't know. he knows that no one can ever put the pieces back in after they've all fallen, and even if they could figure out how to, he's still got the hammer.
do i have to play the game to enjoy everything i believe in? is it taking risks? can life just be lived, without worrying, and not turn out badly? do things always work out in the end, or am i just winning battles and getting ready to lose the war? maybe there's a balance of everything. maybe there's just as much black and white, just in different shades of grey and if someone gets a little darker, someone else gets a little lighter and we're all different but as a whole we make up the same thing.
there are still some things that i'm holding back. i talk a lot, so the things i don't say are the important ones. sometimes buried things should stay buried.
someday things will explode. it will be colorful and magnificent and i'm worried that we will all go blind because we're not used to color. how can there be balance if there is color? grey is easy to balance; it's black and white. color is everything. everything is not the opposite of anything but nothing. so after the color explosion, to balance everything out, will we end with nothing? is the world on a timer to self-destruct out from under us? because that would be a good joke for the universe to play; we all get heart attacks over trying to save the world and it's jumping off its own cliff anyway.
and how the fuck did it get to be 11:13 pm? i don't get it. actually, i do get it. i'm just not going to tell anyone.
i can't tell whether i'm pessimistic or optimistic and if the glass is half full or half empty but i'm kind of beginning to think that i probably don't have a glass, i have a fish tank or an apothecary bottle or something that doesn't really look like anyone else's and i shouldn't really worry about what's in it or how much or what words i'd use to describe it, i should just figure out why the fuck my container is so different and how i can best use that to my own personal advantage. i mean to help all the poor and unfortunate in the land and create world peace. no, let's not lie. best uses for me.
howfuckingroman tic.
i'm afraid. deathly afraid that everything i believe in is just those little blocks in that kids game "don't break the ice." someday, someone's gonna take that little green hammer and hit the wrong block; all the other blocks will fall; the little ice-skating polar bear will lie lifelessly on the carpet and me and all the other kids playing will start crying and trying to put the pieces back in. the guy with the hammer will stand there smiling. he knows something we don't know. he knows that no one can ever put the pieces back in after they've all fallen, and even if they could figure out how to, he's still got the hammer.
do i have to play the game to enjoy everything i believe in? is it taking risks? can life just be lived, without worrying, and not turn out badly? do things always work out in the end, or am i just winning battles and getting ready to lose the war? maybe there's a balance of everything. maybe there's just as much black and white, just in different shades of grey and if someone gets a little darker, someone else gets a little lighter and we're all different but as a whole we make up the same thing.
there are still some things that i'm holding back. i talk a lot, so the things i don't say are the important ones. sometimes buried things should stay buried.
someday things will explode. it will be colorful and magnificent and i'm worried that we will all go blind because we're not used to color. how can there be balance if there is color? grey is easy to balance; it's black and white. color is everything. everything is not the opposite of anything but nothing. so after the color explosion, to balance everything out, will we end with nothing? is the world on a timer to self-destruct out from under us? because that would be a good joke for the universe to play; we all get heart attacks over trying to save the world and it's jumping off its own cliff anyway.
and how the fuck did it get to be 11:13 pm? i don't get it. actually, i do get it. i'm just not going to tell anyone.
i can't tell whether i'm pessimistic or optimistic and if the glass is half full or half empty but i'm kind of beginning to think that i probably don't have a glass, i have a fish tank or an apothecary bottle or something that doesn't really look like anyone else's and i shouldn't really worry about what's in it or how much or what words i'd use to describe it, i should just figure out why the fuck my container is so different and how i can best use that to my own personal advantage. i mean to help all the poor and unfortunate in the land and create world peace. no, let's not lie. best uses for me.
howfuckingroman tic.