the night is black...
if only there were simple ways for me to approach the life that I have made for myself, and the people who I have included in it...
I want so much to be free to love people in a general sense, but I continually find myself bound by the morality and intensity that rules my mind.
I am a free spirit who wants so badly to be unshackled and left to frenzy and discovery. I want to feel, to find love, to fuck randomly, to sleep when it's convenient, to embrace a random that I can never hope to understand.
Like the early days of my 16th year. Walking across the road, through the woods, to her house. That first love that I felt. That I wanted to feel. To touch, to move between, to have my emotions reciprocated by. I can't remember exactly how it felt then, but I do know that it was fantastic. Like nothing I'd felt before.
Like those endless night spent alone in that condemnable room in my fathers house. The screaming, the suspicion, the constant fear of impending doom whenever the door slammed. The sounds from my pathetic, broken boom box. The TOOLs that I used to build the walls around my shattered soul. The tones to which I became Def. It's all just a blur that is hardly a memory anymore.
The loneliness, the desperation, the pointless hope in someone who could never love me like I wanted them to. It's all just a blur...
Now the nothingness that is my lifestyle. That is the lifestyle of all of my friends. I'm stuck in a droning groove, and so are they. We wake up, we work (or procrastinate professionally), we sleep. In between all of that is music, magic, sex, video games, repetetive conversational interraction, and parties.
We like to drink and smoke. It seems like that's all we do nowadays. That's the only way we know of to have fun. I am growing weary of it. The thrill has lost its luster and appeal.
So where do we go? Where do we turn?
Where do I go? Where do I turn?
It's all so endless. The only release is death...
Or perhaps not even that...
I want so much to be free to love people in a general sense, but I continually find myself bound by the morality and intensity that rules my mind.
I am a free spirit who wants so badly to be unshackled and left to frenzy and discovery. I want to feel, to find love, to fuck randomly, to sleep when it's convenient, to embrace a random that I can never hope to understand.
Like the early days of my 16th year. Walking across the road, through the woods, to her house. That first love that I felt. That I wanted to feel. To touch, to move between, to have my emotions reciprocated by. I can't remember exactly how it felt then, but I do know that it was fantastic. Like nothing I'd felt before.
Like those endless night spent alone in that condemnable room in my fathers house. The screaming, the suspicion, the constant fear of impending doom whenever the door slammed. The sounds from my pathetic, broken boom box. The TOOLs that I used to build the walls around my shattered soul. The tones to which I became Def. It's all just a blur that is hardly a memory anymore.
The loneliness, the desperation, the pointless hope in someone who could never love me like I wanted them to. It's all just a blur...
Now the nothingness that is my lifestyle. That is the lifestyle of all of my friends. I'm stuck in a droning groove, and so are they. We wake up, we work (or procrastinate professionally), we sleep. In between all of that is music, magic, sex, video games, repetetive conversational interraction, and parties.
We like to drink and smoke. It seems like that's all we do nowadays. That's the only way we know of to have fun. I am growing weary of it. The thrill has lost its luster and appeal.
So where do we go? Where do we turn?
Where do I go? Where do I turn?
It's all so endless. The only release is death...
Or perhaps not even that...