She was dead. But it was alright.
Hello everyone out there...
Out there.
"I feel the rise of that old familiar feeling...the feeling I've got nothing to lose. I hated it....I welcomed it."
I moved out of my apartment a couple days ago. I left it in good condition. I got a copy of a move-out walkthrough form. Saying all it needed was a carpet shampooing. Which is good. I'll get most of my moms security deposit back. I've been doing a lot to help her out around the house. I installed a hardwood floor in her entry hallway, and the hallway leading to her room and my sisters, with some help from hyalus_anima. It looks great. I just need a couple more supplies to finish.
I don't know. Lately I've been feeling like all I've got are roots of plastic. And the surrounding heat is just moments away. That any moment these feet of mine will be swept out from under me, and I will float slowly down this river of life to some strange place unknown to me. It's an uneasy feeling.
Your past has a way of sneaking up on you. You'll hear broken echoes of it everywhere, like a bad replay. You'll get mad at everyone for reminding you about it, even if it's all in your head.
There are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes afterwards, when you ask 'Why me?' and 'What if?'. When you look back and see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or forked lightning. If you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions.
Out there.
"I feel the rise of that old familiar feeling...the feeling I've got nothing to lose. I hated it....I welcomed it."
I moved out of my apartment a couple days ago. I left it in good condition. I got a copy of a move-out walkthrough form. Saying all it needed was a carpet shampooing. Which is good. I'll get most of my moms security deposit back. I've been doing a lot to help her out around the house. I installed a hardwood floor in her entry hallway, and the hallway leading to her room and my sisters, with some help from hyalus_anima. It looks great. I just need a couple more supplies to finish.
I don't know. Lately I've been feeling like all I've got are roots of plastic. And the surrounding heat is just moments away. That any moment these feet of mine will be swept out from under me, and I will float slowly down this river of life to some strange place unknown to me. It's an uneasy feeling.
Your past has a way of sneaking up on you. You'll hear broken echoes of it everywhere, like a bad replay. You'll get mad at everyone for reminding you about it, even if it's all in your head.
There are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes afterwards, when you ask 'Why me?' and 'What if?'. When you look back and see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or forked lightning. If you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions.