(no subject)
i'll tell you a secret: we're still taking it one day at a time.
no one knows where they belong,
the search just goes on and on and on;
for every day that ends up wrong,
another one's right
i'm going to learn how to play the drums. i'm going to take some programs and become a certified veterinary technician and a licensed private investigator. i'm going to disappear for a few days in the blue ridge mountains with a box of matches and a sleeping bag. i'm going to produce a play i'm going to write. i'm going to go skydiving.
i know it all sounds so disparate, but these are things i've always wanted to do. i haven't, because i always thought i had time. all my wishes began with someday.
but, no one has time; it's not a thing we can own. we can't buy it, spend it, store it up, lend it out. it's given to us, one minute at a time, with no promise we will ever be given another.
my father dreamed of things he never had the chance to even plan to do, and sometimes i feel like i'm the only one who thinks that this is the greatest tragedy in his death. i spend too many minutes dreaming of things i'll never do, because i've always been afraid of the finding and the healing.
and maybe that is mine.
but the question begs,
why would you wait
and be late for your life?
no one knows where they belong,
the search just goes on and on and on;
for every day that ends up wrong,
another one's right
i'm going to learn how to play the drums. i'm going to take some programs and become a certified veterinary technician and a licensed private investigator. i'm going to disappear for a few days in the blue ridge mountains with a box of matches and a sleeping bag. i'm going to produce a play i'm going to write. i'm going to go skydiving.
i know it all sounds so disparate, but these are things i've always wanted to do. i haven't, because i always thought i had time. all my wishes began with someday.
but, no one has time; it's not a thing we can own. we can't buy it, spend it, store it up, lend it out. it's given to us, one minute at a time, with no promise we will ever be given another.
my father dreamed of things he never had the chance to even plan to do, and sometimes i feel like i'm the only one who thinks that this is the greatest tragedy in his death. i spend too many minutes dreaming of things i'll never do, because i've always been afraid of the finding and the healing.
and maybe that is mine.
but the question begs,
why would you wait
and be late for your life?