(no subject)
I miss you, and you...and somehow I'm just supposed to...deal with that, live that. And somehow life is just supposed to just keep moving, keep churning...instead, I just feel kicked, over and over.
These are my days, these are my hours. And when I reach out, I discover it's the last thing I should do. There's often no one to reach out to, so I bottle and bury...building more walls, buildiing shields. Truth is not something people want...they claim they do, but that is as far from the truth as anything. Unless it's the version of truth they want. Run, hide, bottle, bury...
THAT is life.
These are my days, these are my hours. And when I reach out, I discover it's the last thing I should do. There's often no one to reach out to, so I bottle and bury...building more walls, buildiing shields. Truth is not something people want...they claim they do, but that is as far from the truth as anything. Unless it's the version of truth they want. Run, hide, bottle, bury...
THAT is life.