9-13-08
When I think about it, there are a lot of things I wish I could accomplish; things that are completely out of reach in such a way that it makes my heart sore and limp. The impossibility of achieving complete euphoria is obvious, but I still dwell on it. Is anybody listening? Can you hear what I'm thinking? Come closer, listen! Now can you?
Tonight, as I was turning onto my street, my blinker was completely in sync with the music playing in my car. It felt special. Sometimes I just drive around while my son is sound asleep in the backseat and listen to the beat of the drum in every song that plays. I like to tune everything else out. I pretend I'm driving away from all of my anger; someplace where I can smile every day and, in all actuality, be sincere about it. Maybe a little cottage on the water where I can wake up and drink tea on my brick red porch and read the morning paper. I can slip into a sundress every single day and dip my feet into the lukewarm water, sinking my toes deep into the soft sand.
You know, when I think about it, I wonder if all of the girls I admire really have exemplary lives they portray. Are they as regal as they seem?
I want a fresh start, but it's blatant that every time I turn a new page, I spill something on it.
Tonight, as I was turning onto my street, my blinker was completely in sync with the music playing in my car. It felt special. Sometimes I just drive around while my son is sound asleep in the backseat and listen to the beat of the drum in every song that plays. I like to tune everything else out. I pretend I'm driving away from all of my anger; someplace where I can smile every day and, in all actuality, be sincere about it. Maybe a little cottage on the water where I can wake up and drink tea on my brick red porch and read the morning paper. I can slip into a sundress every single day and dip my feet into the lukewarm water, sinking my toes deep into the soft sand.
You know, when I think about it, I wonder if all of the girls I admire really have exemplary lives they portray. Are they as regal as they seem?
I want a fresh start, but it's blatant that every time I turn a new page, I spill something on it.