Rain...
I hate the rain. The chaos and disorder and sadness brought on by
the rain makes my life unbearable. I have caused rain. Not
just a light drizzle, but a full torrential downpour! I have made
Bercas aware. It's a habit I have. Not just Bercas, but
also Sannleoch, Yorsau, Sanntak, SannVeR, Storsea and myself. We
are all waiting for the rain to pass.
There is no excuse for making all these people unhappy. Perhaps I place to much value in the truth, too much value in interpersonal history, too much value in being honest with myself.
Man your battle stations...hard times are ahead.
So what does helping people get me? A sense of satisfaction? Only if its actually helping. All of the above are not happy with me. I can make things better for Sannleoch, fortunately; I still have time with her.
I've lived through a lot...many people have. I've seen too much. If I spent a few years in isolation, I'd prolly be on par with everyone else. Maybe then I'd be on the 'normal' level like everyone else. I've wanted to be considered "normal".
This isn't the same as 'accepted'. I'm presently accepted, I know that. I wouldn't dare ask how or why I'm accepted, not only would that be rude, but I see it as questioning friendships, which is something a 'real' friend would never do. I'm more curious...on a pure logical level, as to why I have so many friends now than I ever did.
anyway...back to rain...
When it rains, I can not think, and I can barely move. I think of those who have rain in their life, and how I'm the reason its raining. My only true passion, the only time I feel alive...is when I'm alive, when I'm helping, when the burden of sorrow is lifted and I can again see a smiling face. I can't exaclty say I've been truely alive for awhile now. I've come close...so close I can almost taste Life's wonderful flavor. I come so close, and I lose grip with reality again. I say or do something stupid, and I lose focus.
I can't draw a picture of yesterday, so I'm painting in my heart with my blood. I can't say 'no' only turning the wheel of time with a rope around my neck. I build a wall of morality and take a breath from between the bricks. I make up imaginary enemies and am chased by them. I am trying to commit spiritual suicide. I am satisfied with my prologue, now I'm painting my first chapter black. I am putting the scraps of life together and trying to make an asylum for myself; I am hitting the bell at the end of a stage...and...
I am trying to kill me...
I must now break down the wall inside my heart. I just want to let my emotions get out.
Close my eyes, release that I hear of love and sadness, that melt in my heart. Dry my tears, wipe my bloody face; I wouldn't feel weak, leaving my life outside my life....Dreams can make me mad. I can lose my dreams, and I can stop myself. Don't know where I am. What lies are truths and what truths are lies?.
I believe in the madness called now. Time goes flowing, breaking my heart. Want to live, can not let my life kill myself. Seeing as I haven't found what I'm looking for. Art of life, I tried to stop myself, but my heart goes to destroy the truth. Tell me why I want the meaning of my life. Do I try to live? Do I try to love?
Art of Life: an eternal bleeding heart; you never want to breathe your last. Want to live? Can't let my heart kill myself.
Still I'm feeling for...
A rose is breathing love, in my life.
There is no excuse for making all these people unhappy. Perhaps I place to much value in the truth, too much value in interpersonal history, too much value in being honest with myself.
Man your battle stations...hard times are ahead.
So what does helping people get me? A sense of satisfaction? Only if its actually helping. All of the above are not happy with me. I can make things better for Sannleoch, fortunately; I still have time with her.
I've lived through a lot...many people have. I've seen too much. If I spent a few years in isolation, I'd prolly be on par with everyone else. Maybe then I'd be on the 'normal' level like everyone else. I've wanted to be considered "normal".
This isn't the same as 'accepted'. I'm presently accepted, I know that. I wouldn't dare ask how or why I'm accepted, not only would that be rude, but I see it as questioning friendships, which is something a 'real' friend would never do. I'm more curious...on a pure logical level, as to why I have so many friends now than I ever did.
anyway...back to rain...
When it rains, I can not think, and I can barely move. I think of those who have rain in their life, and how I'm the reason its raining. My only true passion, the only time I feel alive...is when I'm alive, when I'm helping, when the burden of sorrow is lifted and I can again see a smiling face. I can't exaclty say I've been truely alive for awhile now. I've come close...so close I can almost taste Life's wonderful flavor. I come so close, and I lose grip with reality again. I say or do something stupid, and I lose focus.
I can't draw a picture of yesterday, so I'm painting in my heart with my blood. I can't say 'no' only turning the wheel of time with a rope around my neck. I build a wall of morality and take a breath from between the bricks. I make up imaginary enemies and am chased by them. I am trying to commit spiritual suicide. I am satisfied with my prologue, now I'm painting my first chapter black. I am putting the scraps of life together and trying to make an asylum for myself; I am hitting the bell at the end of a stage...and...
I am trying to kill me...
I must now break down the wall inside my heart. I just want to let my emotions get out.
Close my eyes, release that I hear of love and sadness, that melt in my heart. Dry my tears, wipe my bloody face; I wouldn't feel weak, leaving my life outside my life....Dreams can make me mad. I can lose my dreams, and I can stop myself. Don't know where I am. What lies are truths and what truths are lies?.
I believe in the madness called now. Time goes flowing, breaking my heart. Want to live, can not let my life kill myself. Seeing as I haven't found what I'm looking for. Art of life, I tried to stop myself, but my heart goes to destroy the truth. Tell me why I want the meaning of my life. Do I try to live? Do I try to love?
Art of Life: an eternal bleeding heart; you never want to breathe your last. Want to live? Can't let my heart kill myself.
Still I'm feeling for...
A rose is breathing love, in my life.