(no subject)
Today I was sifting through old boxes and I came across a notebook I had written in long ago when I first moved to Ireland. My words were so full of emotion I couldn't believe it. It seems emotions have been dying in me over the years, and I shudder at how far things have gone before I knew what it was to actually feel. boxes and boxes of perception, I am so surrounded by these boxes, that I cannot even see myself anymore.
is my soul sleeping?
Whatever I was back then, whatever that was... it is far better to feel something, to see the world in vivid shocking colors than to deny them, and constantly strive to make life more palatable, more bland. It is time to break out of it, it is now necessary to break free from this prison i have created for myself.
is my soul sleeping?
Whatever I was back then, whatever that was... it is far better to feel something, to see the world in vivid shocking colors than to deny them, and constantly strive to make life more palatable, more bland. It is time to break out of it, it is now necessary to break free from this prison i have created for myself.