ROCK>PAPER
I all of a sudden have this gloomy, sullen feeling that I'm going to be losing a lot once graduation comes. Those laughs, friends, and good ol' times will be nothing more than memories in a picture book that I pull out some day down the road to show "I've been there; I've done that." No use worrying over it though. It was bound to happen. But some times I can't help but to think about all those countless hours we put into one another (our friendships; love interests; foes). Seriously- sit there and think about it. And for what? What use is it to us now? Funny, what you look back on things- how silly they really were, but how much they really meant to you then. If only we knew then, what we know now. A very trye saying I say.
I've also recently taken a brave step. I've opened up, a little. To someone. But what's funny, is the timing of it all. We've both opened up and shared memories knowing that I'm going to be walking away onto something new very shortly. But we did it anyways (no, nothing sexual- just- caring, feeling admired for once and not in a sexual, deviant way). So what will it come to once I leave? Nothing more than another picture in my album? Another cd full of memorable lyrical notes? Or just another entry among many in my blank journal pages. Ironic, don't you think. I finally meet a decent buck, and this doe is on to see greener pastures. Maybe it's just my time to walk, to move on, to make my bow and wave as I take my exit on cue...
YOU confuse the rock that I sleep on.
I've also recently taken a brave step. I've opened up, a little. To someone. But what's funny, is the timing of it all. We've both opened up and shared memories knowing that I'm going to be walking away onto something new very shortly. But we did it anyways (no, nothing sexual- just- caring, feeling admired for once and not in a sexual, deviant way). So what will it come to once I leave? Nothing more than another picture in my album? Another cd full of memorable lyrical notes? Or just another entry among many in my blank journal pages. Ironic, don't you think. I finally meet a decent buck, and this doe is on to see greener pastures. Maybe it's just my time to walk, to move on, to make my bow and wave as I take my exit on cue...
YOU confuse the rock that I sleep on.