[with pride and no despise]
I've been listening to far too much Peter Murphy lately. It puts me in a mood, not necassarily good nor bad. Empty, if nothing else. A good empty? A little hard to explain, perhaps. This song, it kills me. I love it so.
Hot tears flow as she recounts
Her favourite worded token
Forgive me please for hurting so
Don't go away heartbroken, no
Don't go away heartbroken, no
I want to write a novel. I want to start writing poetry again. The kind of poetry you could have written five years ago, but when you go back to read it you can still feel every emotion as though you had just dropped the pen. It feels like I've had all the creativity sucked out of me, and ironic as it may be, I blame college. Nobody wants you to be creative, they want you to stay within boundaries. I'm so busy making sure I can support myself, going to school, studying, and doing everything other than what I want to be doing. I don't want to be stuck here, not forever.
I want to travel, and part of me wants to not come back. A long time ago I was set on going to Egypt. Realistically, this won't happen. A long time ago I actually had aspirations and goals, and I was excited about my life. Back then I wasn't being forced to be an adult. The things I look forward to are few and far between. They exist, but there could be so much more. I'm capable of so much more.
I'm young, true, but I don't want that to be my excuse when I'm thirty, forty, or fifty. Something needs to happen. Slow motion is becoming redundant. To be happy and content with myself is the slowest process possible, and it's been a work in progress since birth.
Speed.
Me.
Up.
For everything that I can offer somebody, there are a million other things that I can't.
We all lose.
Hot tears flow as she recounts
Her favourite worded token
Forgive me please for hurting so
Don't go away heartbroken, no
Don't go away heartbroken, no
I want to write a novel. I want to start writing poetry again. The kind of poetry you could have written five years ago, but when you go back to read it you can still feel every emotion as though you had just dropped the pen. It feels like I've had all the creativity sucked out of me, and ironic as it may be, I blame college. Nobody wants you to be creative, they want you to stay within boundaries. I'm so busy making sure I can support myself, going to school, studying, and doing everything other than what I want to be doing. I don't want to be stuck here, not forever.
I want to travel, and part of me wants to not come back. A long time ago I was set on going to Egypt. Realistically, this won't happen. A long time ago I actually had aspirations and goals, and I was excited about my life. Back then I wasn't being forced to be an adult. The things I look forward to are few and far between. They exist, but there could be so much more. I'm capable of so much more.
I'm young, true, but I don't want that to be my excuse when I'm thirty, forty, or fifty. Something needs to happen. Slow motion is becoming redundant. To be happy and content with myself is the slowest process possible, and it's been a work in progress since birth.
Speed.
Me.
Up.
For everything that I can offer somebody, there are a million other things that I can't.
We all lose.