The fire within
I look at my job and the work that I have done for the past few years and it is starting to change perspective. I can look to most of it as comfortably structured, yet it is now reminding me of the holes in the rest of my life. I have spent way too much time here, week by week. It should not be an issue so much now, but the weeks that I have Alex remind me that I do not want to be here any more than I have to be here. This should have been the case before. Alas, it was not.
We both ran from each other in all kinds of ways. I guess it was her turn this time. (damn you, Tori)
Will time be my friend? I do not know. The nostalgia gets diluted as it marches onward. New adventures and scenarios await, but I feel uneasy. As I have said, this should not be easy. If it were, then all of the past would have no meaning. I wish that I could turn my back on it and go forward, but there is no forward for me to face. I am stuck in the here-and-now. Petty flaws and differences aside, I will be okay. I have always been okay. I want to be better than okay. Fine.
Winter is here, and it must be kept at bay with the fire, steam, and machinery that trudges through it. Time is the fire in which we burn. If I am the tree, as my name implies, I too must weather this storm, and bend like a reed if need be.
My creativity is stagnant, as you can tell by my recycled works. Passion is just beneath the surface, but it is asleep. It must sleep for now, until the earthquake hits and all is forgotten.
We both ran from each other in all kinds of ways. I guess it was her turn this time. (damn you, Tori)
Will time be my friend? I do not know. The nostalgia gets diluted as it marches onward. New adventures and scenarios await, but I feel uneasy. As I have said, this should not be easy. If it were, then all of the past would have no meaning. I wish that I could turn my back on it and go forward, but there is no forward for me to face. I am stuck in the here-and-now. Petty flaws and differences aside, I will be okay. I have always been okay. I want to be better than okay. Fine.
Winter is here, and it must be kept at bay with the fire, steam, and machinery that trudges through it. Time is the fire in which we burn. If I am the tree, as my name implies, I too must weather this storm, and bend like a reed if need be.
My creativity is stagnant, as you can tell by my recycled works. Passion is just beneath the surface, but it is asleep. It must sleep for now, until the earthquake hits and all is forgotten.