"i'm on a champagne high..."
My eyes tell a story, they are never blank. My soul has nothing to prove, and nothing to lose. I enjoy being an obstruction to people's memory, a drink they want to down.
I want to be the person who'll make you smile when you want to frown. I enjoy the fact that we never 'grow up', we simply grow older while lines are mended and sculpted onto our bodies. I never want to grow monotonous or entirely serious, I want to be able to laugh on my deathbed, knowing that I have fulfilled my life - that I have lived it spontaneously, knowing that I will always be a child at heart.
I find it interesting that we live in square houses.
Nothing happened. And everything did. Your whole life you can be told something is wrong and so you believe it. Why should you question it? But then slowly seeds are planted inside of you, one by one, by a touch or a look or a day skateboarding in a park, and they start to unfurl, uncurl, little green shoots and they start to burst out of old hulls, shells, and they start to sprout. And pretty soon there are so many of them. They are named Love and Trust and Kindness and Joy and Desire and Wonder and Spirit and Soulmate. They grow into a garden so dense and thick it starts to invade your brain where the old things you were once told are dying.
By the time this garden reaches your brain the old things are dead. They make no sense. The logic of the seeds sprouted inside of you is the only real thing.
I want to be the person who'll make you smile when you want to frown. I enjoy the fact that we never 'grow up', we simply grow older while lines are mended and sculpted onto our bodies. I never want to grow monotonous or entirely serious, I want to be able to laugh on my deathbed, knowing that I have fulfilled my life - that I have lived it spontaneously, knowing that I will always be a child at heart.
I find it interesting that we live in square houses.
Nothing happened. And everything did. Your whole life you can be told something is wrong and so you believe it. Why should you question it? But then slowly seeds are planted inside of you, one by one, by a touch or a look or a day skateboarding in a park, and they start to unfurl, uncurl, little green shoots and they start to burst out of old hulls, shells, and they start to sprout. And pretty soon there are so many of them. They are named Love and Trust and Kindness and Joy and Desire and Wonder and Spirit and Soulmate. They grow into a garden so dense and thick it starts to invade your brain where the old things you were once told are dying.
By the time this garden reaches your brain the old things are dead. They make no sense. The logic of the seeds sprouted inside of you is the only real thing.