Simmering...
I'm tired of trying. I'm about worn out trying to give CPR to a dead person. Is it worth it to keep trying to ressurect old emotions now? Is it worth it to sit up every night thinking "why am I doing this?" I would rather free myself from the whole mess, but, like a knife in the leg - you should leave it there because while it might hurt right now, it'll be worse if you take it out and your femoral artery starts to bleed again. But bleeding to death, save for the pain of the wound itself, isn't painfull. You just kind of fall asleep. Things that run through my mind. I don't want to show them to anyone, and no one WANTS to even see them. Fuck this. But, you know, dead people may not really be dead, right? Miracles happen, right? So you give all you can give. You breathe all the breath you have into that corpse and it's lungs pump artificially up and down with your hands. I don't remember what it feels like anymore. I can't take it any more. I want my hope back. Sitting in my chair, catatonic wondering what the fuck is going on? Why can't I get definate answers out of this world. Is that why I envy math and science so much? They have answers. They have methadology.
People will not understand where I come from. They don't get me. They can't. People that I'm close to don't understand what it's like to move around so much that you've never had a friend you've been physcially close to for more than two years. To them, there's no comparable event. They know where they've lived for the past 10 years with maybe a move in between. And you hold on. You wrap your fist around what love you can get. What other humanity you can be a part of because it's all that keeps you from being swept down a river of apathy.
People won't understand what it's like to cry at the simple act of breathing because it's so sacred. So necessary to life that to be able to do it is a beauty in itself. Just as the Dalai Llama said to stop and close your eyes, clear your mind and listen to yourself breathe. Focus on what breath is. what it means for your life. But don't quote that. They'll call you pretentious - because you've studied something, heaven forbid, that they don't care about. But then they don't call you pretentious anymore - then you're a nerd. Pretentiousness minus the snobiness.
You bare your soul and they say "Put on a towel. I'm not in the mood."
So, we'll see.
People will not understand where I come from. They don't get me. They can't. People that I'm close to don't understand what it's like to move around so much that you've never had a friend you've been physcially close to for more than two years. To them, there's no comparable event. They know where they've lived for the past 10 years with maybe a move in between. And you hold on. You wrap your fist around what love you can get. What other humanity you can be a part of because it's all that keeps you from being swept down a river of apathy.
People won't understand what it's like to cry at the simple act of breathing because it's so sacred. So necessary to life that to be able to do it is a beauty in itself. Just as the Dalai Llama said to stop and close your eyes, clear your mind and listen to yourself breathe. Focus on what breath is. what it means for your life. But don't quote that. They'll call you pretentious - because you've studied something, heaven forbid, that they don't care about. But then they don't call you pretentious anymore - then you're a nerd. Pretentiousness minus the snobiness.
You bare your soul and they say "Put on a towel. I'm not in the mood."
So, we'll see.