(no subject)
I have been sealed up for so long. Everything used to be on the surface, the ebb and flow of my moods and emotions, readily expressed, nothing hidden, no secret pains. But i've lost myself somewhere, i didn't want to scare away the people that haven't known me all my life. There's an ache inside, within my muscles, buried in the cave of my mouth, behind my ear. I miss my home so much, the mountains, the sky pushed up so high that you finally have room to breathe. When the breeze shudders through the gorges and the valleys, the hush hush hush sounds of the quaking aspen. The hidden streams, the green lushness buried and hidden within the rocks. There's enough room to make mistakes but keep on living. And what matters is just being alive, aspiring to live a courageous-enough, expansive-enough life to be noticed among the endless space.
[I've finally figured it out, the answer was sitting in the corner waiting for me to notice it. I want to go home. I'm going to go home. But soon or in four years time?]
[I've finally figured it out, the answer was sitting in the corner waiting for me to notice it. I want to go home. I'm going to go home. But soon or in four years time?]