Que To Your Face
I've wasted seven hours on "The Saying Goes" only to start Victorian(esque) and end Western(esque). This is what I get for surfacing when I was lost in the stream; sleep can always wait.
I only know exhaustion, and I'm not looking for a "welcome to" or "oh, god I know." As a matter of fact I'm not sure what I'm looking for, and I'm as good as lost. Priorities without a direction, racing around and not a moment to rest. My mind is too jumbled to think about abandonment, or the treacherous way things have changed, or how bored I am, or how boring you've become. The familiar reaction would be to start a new hunt, however that's not at all what I want. The ground is as dry as my tongue, and they sky is as empty as their thoughts. I feel like suppressed introspections are so far gone that a whole region of my brain has ceased function; every synapse just rotting.
I've got a bad feeling, a real big, bad feeling. Could be cynicism, or insanity, but the future feels bleak. Everyone's future. The younger generation is royally fucked, the older clinging to some kind of stability, and my generation is a happy little medium. Happy subject to change. Don't know what the point of this is, but all I can associate it with is Fuma in X saying "The Earth wants a revolution." But Earth seems like a different issue to this one, this is the species'. All irrelevant. (Almost deleted)
My understandings seem wasted, irrelevant, or just plain pointless. I'm trying not believe is everyone is so simple, that there's at least a handful more out there waiting for me, waiting to shake my framework and make me compare, make me forget. Will I be going home alone? Will I want to? Will my neck cramp from being on the phone for hours because I can't hear enough from you, or will I set the phone down when you're mid conversation because I don't want to hear you anymore?
Do I even care at all, right here, right now?
One-Eighty By Summer.
Summer's Gone.*
I've got so much more to say. . .
*I'll be listening to those two songs on repeat for a while now.
I only know exhaustion, and I'm not looking for a "welcome to" or "oh, god I know." As a matter of fact I'm not sure what I'm looking for, and I'm as good as lost. Priorities without a direction, racing around and not a moment to rest. My mind is too jumbled to think about abandonment, or the treacherous way things have changed, or how bored I am, or how boring you've become. The familiar reaction would be to start a new hunt, however that's not at all what I want. The ground is as dry as my tongue, and they sky is as empty as their thoughts. I feel like suppressed introspections are so far gone that a whole region of my brain has ceased function; every synapse just rotting.
I've got a bad feeling, a real big, bad feeling. Could be cynicism, or insanity, but the future feels bleak. Everyone's future. The younger generation is royally fucked, the older clinging to some kind of stability, and my generation is a happy little medium. Happy subject to change. Don't know what the point of this is, but all I can associate it with is Fuma in X saying "The Earth wants a revolution." But Earth seems like a different issue to this one, this is the species'. All irrelevant. (Almost deleted)
My understandings seem wasted, irrelevant, or just plain pointless. I'm trying not believe is everyone is so simple, that there's at least a handful more out there waiting for me, waiting to shake my framework and make me compare, make me forget. Will I be going home alone? Will I want to? Will my neck cramp from being on the phone for hours because I can't hear enough from you, or will I set the phone down when you're mid conversation because I don't want to hear you anymore?
Do I even care at all, right here, right now?
One-Eighty By Summer.
Summer's Gone.*
I've got so much more to say. . .
*I'll be listening to those two songs on repeat for a while now.