[ faux, tres tres faux ]
and here she is, revisiting the same lie, the lines spoken so long ago. lines repeated by the same person, both time dragging it along, afraid of the distance. here she is, wondering as always, what it all means. coming across music she forgot she favored at one point in time, yet remembering all the lyrics all too clearly. what's it like to get away, to screw away the responsibility for something easier, not as well kept as what was left behind. is her life skipping stages like her favorite cd's skip verses b/c they've been worn down? could she even get away from it all and know that bliss? maybe it's better to skip the stages.
life should be like the words she wants to publish, pretty and mysterious, with semi-sweet endings that leave you always wondering what happens further down the line.
but why dream about anything? dreams don't come true, and the hope that the make-believe is built on is false, leaving you in sorrow once that hope wears down and falls apart. false hope. false words. false heart.
i miss dreaming. i miss the illusion that those dreams were to become reality. i miss beliving in something.
life should be like the words she wants to publish, pretty and mysterious, with semi-sweet endings that leave you always wondering what happens further down the line.
but why dream about anything? dreams don't come true, and the hope that the make-believe is built on is false, leaving you in sorrow once that hope wears down and falls apart. false hope. false words. false heart.
i miss dreaming. i miss the illusion that those dreams were to become reality. i miss beliving in something.