Nothing in Particular
I've been thinking a lot lately, just about different things, about the future, the past, where I'm going, and in some instances, where I've been. It’s strange how people that you thought you knew, can suddenly become total strangers. You think you know them, but then you realize that you don't know them at all. I feel as though I'm trapped in some sort of alternate reality, everything that I had become accustomed to has become unfamiliar. It leads me to wonder, What’s to become of me? It’s all questions, and not an answer in sight. Regardless of how many people I surround myself with, I'm alone. Friends become enemies, so much death, and so many goodbyes. I want something definite, something tangible, something I can hold on to.
I’m sitting on the bench, I’m around all these people, but I don’t want to be here, I know there’s somewhere I need to be, but I just don’t know where that place is yet. Its cold, but the atmosphere is thick, and the air is poisonous, it almost hurts to breath. This girl, she’s saying things, but I’m sick of these words. I’ve heard this before; I’ve no desire to hear it again. I nod, ok, my mind is elsewhere.
I see a girl, and I want to be that girl, so beautiful, confident, and self-assured. Her and this boy, both so certain, hand in hand. They aren't overly affectionate, but you can tell, you can feel it when you look at them. Its love, in its purest form. They look to each other and she smiles, and it’s as if they share a secret, which only they know. Amidst all of this, this ugliness, sharp and shrill, and rough around the edges, if you look hard enough, you can find it, pure radiance, dazzling and luminescent, hidden, obscured by the filth and the grime. Things like this I hold onto, because they are so rare, so many can say the words, but the words rarely have meaning.
I’m sitting on the bench, I’m around all these people, but I don’t want to be here, I know there’s somewhere I need to be, but I just don’t know where that place is yet. Its cold, but the atmosphere is thick, and the air is poisonous, it almost hurts to breath. This girl, she’s saying things, but I’m sick of these words. I’ve heard this before; I’ve no desire to hear it again. I nod, ok, my mind is elsewhere.
I see a girl, and I want to be that girl, so beautiful, confident, and self-assured. Her and this boy, both so certain, hand in hand. They aren't overly affectionate, but you can tell, you can feel it when you look at them. Its love, in its purest form. They look to each other and she smiles, and it’s as if they share a secret, which only they know. Amidst all of this, this ugliness, sharp and shrill, and rough around the edges, if you look hard enough, you can find it, pure radiance, dazzling and luminescent, hidden, obscured by the filth and the grime. Things like this I hold onto, because they are so rare, so many can say the words, but the words rarely have meaning.