ask yourself if you are happy and you cease to be so. - kierkegaard
i don't know a lot of tings. im not sure i know anything, or if i do, i don't think they're the right things.
im trying to put things into place, make sense of them, yet the pieces don't fit. and im fiddgiting, and beating the peices and it does nothing. and i keep hoping to make sense of it, and i try to find other pieces and nothing works. nothing. i try for time, i try waiting. acting different, smiling not smiling, not caring, caring.
and then i doubted myself as i always do: with what im doing in my life, why i can't be a better writer, why i can't interact truer with people, what im running from, why i'd want to die, why i don't care, why i can't just cave and collapse and merely be content with being mediocre......
(smirks) and yet im smart enough to know as i write this, that there's no point to it........no catharsis, no epiphany, nothing learned.......trip over my own mistakes, crack my head on the ground and im empty inside.........why do i write this, why....? this (hope it stays the same) and Moonlight Mile....and i cried.....and i cried of a broken heart, and i cried for a childhood i never had, and i cried for a love i may never know....and i threw them away........... and i traded them in for a future so frightening and so uncertain, that i can't do anything else but live on and greet it, and shake it's hand when it comes my way.
and for this i thank you Mr. Miller.....and for this i thank you, my dear friends
im trying to put things into place, make sense of them, yet the pieces don't fit. and im fiddgiting, and beating the peices and it does nothing. and i keep hoping to make sense of it, and i try to find other pieces and nothing works. nothing. i try for time, i try waiting. acting different, smiling not smiling, not caring, caring.
and then i doubted myself as i always do: with what im doing in my life, why i can't be a better writer, why i can't interact truer with people, what im running from, why i'd want to die, why i don't care, why i can't just cave and collapse and merely be content with being mediocre......
(smirks) and yet im smart enough to know as i write this, that there's no point to it........no catharsis, no epiphany, nothing learned.......trip over my own mistakes, crack my head on the ground and im empty inside.........why do i write this, why....? this (hope it stays the same) and Moonlight Mile....and i cried.....and i cried of a broken heart, and i cried for a childhood i never had, and i cried for a love i may never know....and i threw them away........... and i traded them in for a future so frightening and so uncertain, that i can't do anything else but live on and greet it, and shake it's hand when it comes my way.
and for this i thank you Mr. Miller.....and for this i thank you, my dear friends