from somewhere else
I am a mirror of the world I live in.
I am glass.
Cold.
Complex.
But I reflect what you have taught me.
I show you everything you never wanted to see.
How do you feel now?
So it goes without saying that the world we live in is rather confusing. Is it not? The messages are mixed up, everyone is trying to prove a point, that this is this, that isn't that, and that in the end, you're going to suffer if you don't choose this over that. What on earth is going on here?
I'm angry, at first, that the world is playing for my loyalties, for my voice, my life to make it a number, a statistic, another brick on a wall meant to be broken down.
Do you understand where I stand in all of this? I stand on my own two feet. I'm making my own choices, my own mind, from all the hypocrites, away from all the lies and truths and in-the-gray messages of this life.
I thought I loved [. . .].
I thought I wanted to be with [. . .].
I thought the world would be so much better with [. . .] by my side.
But in all realities
I just wanted an escape.
I just wanted to stop crying.
I just wanted the world to stop turning and making me feel miserable for being me. And [. . . ] brought me a happiness, for a short bit of time, because [. . .] didn't care, at first, that I was me.
But that faded.
And that hurt. More than [. . .] can comprehend.
So I got stranded again, on the side of the road. Boots filled with dust, a feeling I've grown accustomed to. Waste energy for the walk ahead to take care of this discomfort? No, not a risk I ought to take right now. Kept my arm in the air, hoping a car would take me in to the next unknown town in which I can get a drink of water...
and so...
You came along.
You didn't care.
You loved me.
That was scary.
That was skeptical.
That was a lie, I swear, that everyone told me.
But Your voice didn't carry a sense of desperation.
But You never handed me flowers and chocolates as proof of Your love.
You let my heart race a million miles a minute
You let my skin grow cold, shiver with a million goosebumps
You let me cry tears that I thought had died and given way to a stone heart
You let me see the beauty and treasures in the old of my grandmother's worn yet strong hands
You let me see the childish glee that resides in my loving large family, with each new child I've been blessed to embrace these past few years
You let me live a life that others only dream about
[ ♥ ] a family of numbers that amazes the broken world, which contains laughter, stubbornness, parties, prayer, and love
[ ♥ ] friendships outside of my blood that teach me about patiences, strength, trust, hope, happiness, sadness, the embracing of every emotion imaginable
[ ♥ ] deaths that remind us of our humanity, the time we have and the time we spent and the time to look forward to, the memories we carry which provide the lessons of today for tomorrow's legacy
I am rambling, aren't I?
I am hopeless, no?
I don't think so.
I'm so happy, to be in love with You, to love You, to know that as I lay dreaming, my silent prayers for the world are touching them because You love them as well.
I could never say thank you enough.
Would I be honored to hold a heart meant to hold You?
No, I wouldn't, because its meant to be shared :)
People are starting to question me. "What if you leave?" Then I am a Prodigal Child. I like to roam the forest from time to time, to feel a touch of my humanity. But in the end, He'll call me back, like always, with a smile, with open arms. My entire family's love will always be around, my friends will trust in our bonds while we up and go from this place called home, and death? Death will bring a rest to our restlessness, for she works closely with the voices we dare never speak to.
You're looking at this rather funny. I am to expect this. More questions, more skepticism. But you have to understand, most of you only know me after I lost my grandfather, after I have been on the road to defying the one thing I held true through holy water, a sip of wine on the weekends, puberty, and self-infliction: I have always had a strong faith in the unknown, the unseen. What I know, what I see, it hurts me sometimes, it causes me to cry, and I start to question myself.
No, I was never happy in the pew. Are you kidding me? I'm about action, active participation, making a change, making a difference. And so my violin, my voice, these fingers that move with grace and ease, find a way to sing to You when I don't know what words to say.
I've been playing the violin since I was 10.
But since 17, I've been singing with it too.
*sigh*
There's gotta be more to life than chasing around every temporary highs to satisfy me. Because the more that I'm tripping out, thinking "there must be more to life...", well, it's life, but I'm sure there's got to be more...
Tired now. I suppose this works for now *yawn*
I am glass.
Cold.
Complex.
But I reflect what you have taught me.
I show you everything you never wanted to see.
How do you feel now?
So it goes without saying that the world we live in is rather confusing. Is it not? The messages are mixed up, everyone is trying to prove a point, that this is this, that isn't that, and that in the end, you're going to suffer if you don't choose this over that. What on earth is going on here?
I'm angry, at first, that the world is playing for my loyalties, for my voice, my life to make it a number, a statistic, another brick on a wall meant to be broken down.
Do you understand where I stand in all of this? I stand on my own two feet. I'm making my own choices, my own mind, from all the hypocrites, away from all the lies and truths and in-the-gray messages of this life.
I thought I loved [. . .].
I thought I wanted to be with [. . .].
I thought the world would be so much better with [. . .] by my side.
But in all realities
I just wanted an escape.
I just wanted to stop crying.
I just wanted the world to stop turning and making me feel miserable for being me. And [. . . ] brought me a happiness, for a short bit of time, because [. . .] didn't care, at first, that I was me.
But that faded.
And that hurt. More than [. . .] can comprehend.
So I got stranded again, on the side of the road. Boots filled with dust, a feeling I've grown accustomed to. Waste energy for the walk ahead to take care of this discomfort? No, not a risk I ought to take right now. Kept my arm in the air, hoping a car would take me in to the next unknown town in which I can get a drink of water...
and so...
You came along.
You didn't care.
You loved me.
That was scary.
That was skeptical.
That was a lie, I swear, that everyone told me.
But Your voice didn't carry a sense of desperation.
But You never handed me flowers and chocolates as proof of Your love.
You let my heart race a million miles a minute
You let my skin grow cold, shiver with a million goosebumps
You let me cry tears that I thought had died and given way to a stone heart
You let me see the beauty and treasures in the old of my grandmother's worn yet strong hands
You let me see the childish glee that resides in my loving large family, with each new child I've been blessed to embrace these past few years
You let me live a life that others only dream about
[ ♥ ] a family of numbers that amazes the broken world, which contains laughter, stubbornness, parties, prayer, and love
[ ♥ ] friendships outside of my blood that teach me about patiences, strength, trust, hope, happiness, sadness, the embracing of every emotion imaginable
[ ♥ ] deaths that remind us of our humanity, the time we have and the time we spent and the time to look forward to, the memories we carry which provide the lessons of today for tomorrow's legacy
I am rambling, aren't I?
I am hopeless, no?
I don't think so.
I'm so happy, to be in love with You, to love You, to know that as I lay dreaming, my silent prayers for the world are touching them because You love them as well.
I could never say thank you enough.
Would I be honored to hold a heart meant to hold You?
No, I wouldn't, because its meant to be shared :)
People are starting to question me. "What if you leave?" Then I am a Prodigal Child. I like to roam the forest from time to time, to feel a touch of my humanity. But in the end, He'll call me back, like always, with a smile, with open arms. My entire family's love will always be around, my friends will trust in our bonds while we up and go from this place called home, and death? Death will bring a rest to our restlessness, for she works closely with the voices we dare never speak to.
You're looking at this rather funny. I am to expect this. More questions, more skepticism. But you have to understand, most of you only know me after I lost my grandfather, after I have been on the road to defying the one thing I held true through holy water, a sip of wine on the weekends, puberty, and self-infliction: I have always had a strong faith in the unknown, the unseen. What I know, what I see, it hurts me sometimes, it causes me to cry, and I start to question myself.
No, I was never happy in the pew. Are you kidding me? I'm about action, active participation, making a change, making a difference. And so my violin, my voice, these fingers that move with grace and ease, find a way to sing to You when I don't know what words to say.
I've been playing the violin since I was 10.
But since 17, I've been singing with it too.
*sigh*
There's gotta be more to life than chasing around every temporary highs to satisfy me. Because the more that I'm tripping out, thinking "there must be more to life...", well, it's life, but I'm sure there's got to be more...
Tired now. I suppose this works for now *yawn*