Live and not just exist.
Yes that would be nice. But again, she lost a hold..
What happiness existed has left this countenance and no longer resides upon her composure. The excitement that began my morning dwindles and has fallen with the rain. Rain that should have cleansed this worn yet ready earth. Rain that should have washed her over and left her open for new discoveries to overtake the coming time. Yet now she is soaked through eye to chin, and those that fell did so as they always have. Slow, steady, coaxing others to harken to them. What joy blossomed in these eyes has wilted into despair.
Why must life be decided so finitely? Why cannot hobbies become careers that sustain us? The passions that live within us, that burn inside of us, that drive us to do things and to create things and to be full of and emit love.. they must be locked away while we work. WE become locked away. Who we are becomes distorted day by day as our inner child is thrown into a cage regarded as petty and young, our dreams from golden afternoons burned in a growing inferno of rationalization and societal views. Things that we said we would become, we could become, cast aside for numbers and green slips of paper that overpower our lives. The value placed in them grows as we do and is fueled by the dying, lost power of our ambitions.
No matter how much I say I wish I was a senior, I am afraid of becoming one. I am afriad of applications that will send me to an institution for another four years, but these to be the final, and these the decision of where my life will eventually be placed, should there be an empty seat from whispers of withered souls. I have plans that will never become more than that. I have dreams that will only be shadows I will grow tired of chasing, dreams that will follow me not only in the colors of sleep. I am afraid of leaving what I know to try and become something I do not even understand. There is far too much here that I cannot leave, far too much that I want to follow. How can I choose a place to spend four years of my life and expect it to be the right one, expect the right things and people to be there, expect the feeling of home when home can only be in one place?
Again, I feel lost. Again, I feel fear tighten the grasp it once let slack into. The slack that I saw and put pride towards, only to see that the space given to me was only placed there to be taken away once more.
No worries. This too shall pass. All will turn grey as I merge into the American society, always remembering when I claimed to be a rebel and when others beckonned me to break away when I had the chance. I am being melodramatic. I should keep my chin up, face the sun so that shadows fall behind and light shines down, I should continue trying to be what I wish, do what I dream.. Try to live and not just exist.
edit -- i love him. it's funny how the sound of someone's voice can rejuvenate you :) not fully, but enough to bring my day up from that realization of a clouded path.
What happiness existed has left this countenance and no longer resides upon her composure. The excitement that began my morning dwindles and has fallen with the rain. Rain that should have cleansed this worn yet ready earth. Rain that should have washed her over and left her open for new discoveries to overtake the coming time. Yet now she is soaked through eye to chin, and those that fell did so as they always have. Slow, steady, coaxing others to harken to them. What joy blossomed in these eyes has wilted into despair.
Why must life be decided so finitely? Why cannot hobbies become careers that sustain us? The passions that live within us, that burn inside of us, that drive us to do things and to create things and to be full of and emit love.. they must be locked away while we work. WE become locked away. Who we are becomes distorted day by day as our inner child is thrown into a cage regarded as petty and young, our dreams from golden afternoons burned in a growing inferno of rationalization and societal views. Things that we said we would become, we could become, cast aside for numbers and green slips of paper that overpower our lives. The value placed in them grows as we do and is fueled by the dying, lost power of our ambitions.
No matter how much I say I wish I was a senior, I am afraid of becoming one. I am afriad of applications that will send me to an institution for another four years, but these to be the final, and these the decision of where my life will eventually be placed, should there be an empty seat from whispers of withered souls. I have plans that will never become more than that. I have dreams that will only be shadows I will grow tired of chasing, dreams that will follow me not only in the colors of sleep. I am afraid of leaving what I know to try and become something I do not even understand. There is far too much here that I cannot leave, far too much that I want to follow. How can I choose a place to spend four years of my life and expect it to be the right one, expect the right things and people to be there, expect the feeling of home when home can only be in one place?
Again, I feel lost. Again, I feel fear tighten the grasp it once let slack into. The slack that I saw and put pride towards, only to see that the space given to me was only placed there to be taken away once more.
No worries. This too shall pass. All will turn grey as I merge into the American society, always remembering when I claimed to be a rebel and when others beckonned me to break away when I had the chance. I am being melodramatic. I should keep my chin up, face the sun so that shadows fall behind and light shines down, I should continue trying to be what I wish, do what I dream.. Try to live and not just exist.
edit -- i love him. it's funny how the sound of someone's voice can rejuvenate you :) not fully, but enough to bring my day up from that realization of a clouded path.