Poetics
Today hasn't been particularly good or bad. Class should be minimally time consuming. Work will hopefully be very slow, and even less time consuming. I don't know, I really want to write music, I want to write anything in general. Something poetic, something expansive, something completely introspective and personal, something to help better understand myself and help others understand me. It's hard to think that way, to try and disregard all of the wonderful fancies I've brought myself to indulge in: the stupid little conversations where i found myself so clever, the moments where i'm alone and want nothing more than to be somewhere with somebody who would understand that statement. It's like needing to burrow yourself through all the mire and waste of your own heart, the foolish stubborness of your own mind, and finding just your soul, just who you are without the culmination of all of your experiences, and the perception of other people modifying and warping your own view of yourself. That without other people and boundaries in ourselves are we in everything ele, without self-perception, self-acknowledgement could there be perfect empathy? It's the wonderful little hang ups in our own personalities when we're alone, the almost perfect synchronization of your heart and mind when something touches you just the right way, when the even the sadness is sweet in the most perfect manner. It kills me to get people to see these moments in myself, and it kills me to want only to pass on that feeling to others. Even if it required the whole of my life, it would be brilliant to write out culmination of those, to write even just in one word, what billions might never describe as eloquently.
Who knows though? maybe i'm just being overly dramatic.
Who knows though? maybe i'm just being overly dramatic.