Any port in a storm...
Ugh. I miss talking to people so badly...
Never look through old photos on your digital camera. Especially if you still think about/like your ex. Goddamnit, Tom, this sucks. I'm looking through pieces of my life, and each one I see, I seem to want it back more and more. Everything has gone crazy, my world has turned upside down. It's odd, though, the emotions that moments such as that trigger. I said the most insightful things I may ever say in my life, but I can't remember them. I was highly disappointed. But it happened, much to my elation.
I started going through my Windows Media Player and pulling lyrics out of songs that I relate to. It's an interesting mix... Evanescence, Fountains of Wayne, Madonna, The Beatles, Ziggy Marley, and many more. This should be fun. I've also decided to stop being embarrassed of the fact that I actually like Madonna.
I feel so... confused, I suppose. Why must things happen the way they do? Why do we take things for granted? And, most importantly, why don't I have Tori Amos' new CD yet?
I have made a mess of being myself. So... uhm, how do I fix it? God help me.
By the way: GO LISTEN TO EISLEY. RIGHT NOW. Marvelous Things rocks my socks off. Oh, yeah, GO LISTEN TO THE DUHKS. They also rock. Mists of Down Below = love.
Such Innocent Eyes
Love is a fickle commodity in modern society. We use it, abuse it, discard it, as though it were some old snapshot of a life that wasn’t really ours and never truly will be.
Now I’m going through those snapshots of my life, wondering how things could have been different had I been smarter. In retrospect, I curse myself for my foolishness.
My mind is riddled with memories of my childhood, merely vague recollections of what once was, what has come to pass, and those that I once loved. I have become the girl of clichéd nightmares, the girl I always feared and avoided when I passed her on the street.
My sweet childhood… when you lose your naivety, it’s like a bullet speeding through your skull, burning a fiery tunnel from temple to virtuous temple. It is the most damning thing that will happen to you in life.
The clues from the past that I left myself hint at an effortless life, a carefree one of great relish. I cared not for analytical novels or tormented music. My bobbing French braids, glinting fawn’s eyes, and toothy smile spoke volumes… I was a bright child, a happy one.
Life’s bitter irony, in my case, is truly astounding. My mind afforded me enough luxury to forget my youth, but remains quick to recall every gesture held within each trying moment from then on.
Never look through old photos on your digital camera. Especially if you still think about/like your ex. Goddamnit, Tom, this sucks. I'm looking through pieces of my life, and each one I see, I seem to want it back more and more. Everything has gone crazy, my world has turned upside down. It's odd, though, the emotions that moments such as that trigger. I said the most insightful things I may ever say in my life, but I can't remember them. I was highly disappointed. But it happened, much to my elation.
I started going through my Windows Media Player and pulling lyrics out of songs that I relate to. It's an interesting mix... Evanescence, Fountains of Wayne, Madonna, The Beatles, Ziggy Marley, and many more. This should be fun. I've also decided to stop being embarrassed of the fact that I actually like Madonna.
I feel so... confused, I suppose. Why must things happen the way they do? Why do we take things for granted? And, most importantly, why don't I have Tori Amos' new CD yet?
I have made a mess of being myself. So... uhm, how do I fix it? God help me.
By the way: GO LISTEN TO EISLEY. RIGHT NOW. Marvelous Things rocks my socks off. Oh, yeah, GO LISTEN TO THE DUHKS. They also rock. Mists of Down Below = love.
Such Innocent Eyes
Love is a fickle commodity in modern society. We use it, abuse it, discard it, as though it were some old snapshot of a life that wasn’t really ours and never truly will be.
Now I’m going through those snapshots of my life, wondering how things could have been different had I been smarter. In retrospect, I curse myself for my foolishness.
My mind is riddled with memories of my childhood, merely vague recollections of what once was, what has come to pass, and those that I once loved. I have become the girl of clichéd nightmares, the girl I always feared and avoided when I passed her on the street.
My sweet childhood… when you lose your naivety, it’s like a bullet speeding through your skull, burning a fiery tunnel from temple to virtuous temple. It is the most damning thing that will happen to you in life.
The clues from the past that I left myself hint at an effortless life, a carefree one of great relish. I cared not for analytical novels or tormented music. My bobbing French braids, glinting fawn’s eyes, and toothy smile spoke volumes… I was a bright child, a happy one.
Life’s bitter irony, in my case, is truly astounding. My mind afforded me enough luxury to forget my youth, but remains quick to recall every gesture held within each trying moment from then on.