dream a little dream.....
i suppose i'm hormonal or something.......every time i am, i get really really fucking emo about shit......
anyway, i'm in a poetic frame of mind.......
sitting here in the dark of my room, listening to a playlist of old songs from the 90s, i seem to dream a waking dream of times now gone, never to return.......
Nirvana in particular.....they seem to embody the 90s for me, and thusly my childhood.......my brother and sister are six and seven years older than me, and i listened to what they listened to, and I listened to Nirvana amongst other artists.........
the suffering voice of Kurt Cobain, strumming his suffering song on his guitar........the pain seeps through, seeps through my ears into my soul......
and if i close my eyes to this darkness around me, i can float away on his voice into the past.......the world has a golden glow, as if i am looking through a yellow lens filter........no weight on my shoulders........no pain in my heart......i am laying on my bed, the sun shining in through my windows, the trees swaying in the wind as it blows through my room, cooling my flesh and soul.............
my dad is happy and alive, and my mom is happy, and my brother and sister are happy.......and i...i am happy too, and content to just live and breathe.........
and then, i can open my eyes, and there is darkness all around me once more........my dad has died, Kurt Cobain has died, the past has died, and all i can do is sit here and dream about the times when the sun shone brightest.......
it may be over a hundred degrees here in Texas right now.......but the sun won't ever shine as bright as it did in the 90s when i was still a child with her father..........and sometimes, despite the heat, i get a cold feeling deep down inside........
can't do much about it........
Kurt Cobain can make me cry just listening to his voice, a memory of those days.........
just as he is a memory......
and i feel, even in my twenty four years of existence, i am a person with too many memories.......and yet, not enough.....not nearly enough.......
death, o death.....why must you linger around me like a cold winter wind, killing those i love?
bittersweet existence.....when you're surrounded by the ghosts of your loved ones and live to dream of the past.....can't go forward.......too painful.......
anyway......
Emily
anyway, i'm in a poetic frame of mind.......
sitting here in the dark of my room, listening to a playlist of old songs from the 90s, i seem to dream a waking dream of times now gone, never to return.......
Nirvana in particular.....they seem to embody the 90s for me, and thusly my childhood.......my brother and sister are six and seven years older than me, and i listened to what they listened to, and I listened to Nirvana amongst other artists.........
the suffering voice of Kurt Cobain, strumming his suffering song on his guitar........the pain seeps through, seeps through my ears into my soul......
and if i close my eyes to this darkness around me, i can float away on his voice into the past.......the world has a golden glow, as if i am looking through a yellow lens filter........no weight on my shoulders........no pain in my heart......i am laying on my bed, the sun shining in through my windows, the trees swaying in the wind as it blows through my room, cooling my flesh and soul.............
my dad is happy and alive, and my mom is happy, and my brother and sister are happy.......and i...i am happy too, and content to just live and breathe.........
and then, i can open my eyes, and there is darkness all around me once more........my dad has died, Kurt Cobain has died, the past has died, and all i can do is sit here and dream about the times when the sun shone brightest.......
it may be over a hundred degrees here in Texas right now.......but the sun won't ever shine as bright as it did in the 90s when i was still a child with her father..........and sometimes, despite the heat, i get a cold feeling deep down inside........
can't do much about it........
Kurt Cobain can make me cry just listening to his voice, a memory of those days.........
just as he is a memory......
and i feel, even in my twenty four years of existence, i am a person with too many memories.......and yet, not enough.....not nearly enough.......
death, o death.....why must you linger around me like a cold winter wind, killing those i love?
bittersweet existence.....when you're surrounded by the ghosts of your loved ones and live to dream of the past.....can't go forward.......too painful.......
anyway......
Emily