Running forever
I'm so numb.
I cry because I miss him
I miss him so much.
And sometimes when we're locked up all alone, we forget the big picture.
I can't feel anymore. I want to curl up with someone and have them comfort me the way Jose did, but the truth is, I can't feel them. No matter how much people hug me and hold me, it doesn't bring comfort.
That's because I'm immune to them, I can't feel for them and I can only feel for Jose.
numb, that's why I'm numb. I can't feel them anymore, I can't feel anything anymore.
So I plaster a smile on my face and I dream.
Dreams are so sweet. . .
-----------
Who are we really?
I mean, in the end of everything, what is it all about?
We say "it's about you and me, I love you, you love me. This is life, this is what we are"
Maybe that is what we are. Maybe I am only half of what I was.
But who am I? I know I'm human, I know my name is Lane; who is Lane? What does a name mean, what does a face mean, what does a voice mean?
Somedays I pretend to understand, sometimes all I do is pretend. I feel like a little girl, wrapped in a leopard-patterened-cape with a jeweled crown and too-big shoes(twinkling red of course). I'm a princess in my dream, I pretend that I know my subjects, my land, what is right and what is wrong. . . in reality, I'm just a little girl wishing too big. Wishing for a better day to come. Why do we pretend like this? I pretend because I can't understand. Truly, deeply, I can't understand.
Honestly, I don't want to.
I think the answer will always be different, it will always be the same. That was then, this is now. Now? What is now? Who is now? Why is it now? Now is too soon, too fickle, too superficial. I don't love now. I loved then. I love what was, not what is.
I try to love what is.
"I cry because when I look into your eyes, I see your heart is broken. You smile with every effort, you help others with your broken spirit. You try so hard to be happy, you try to be a better person. I cry because you hurt and everytime you hurt, you try harder, everytime you hurt more, you smile more and you try to be positive. I cry because you try so hard and are never rewarded and you are trying to convince yourself that you don't need to be. I cry because I want to heal your heart. I cry because he is the only one that can. I cry because I want to be like you."
Words are beautiful. Words are powerful. I have to be what I am now, I have to pretend. If I don't pretend, I'll be lost within even darker lies. I sit with my back against the wall, I close my eyes. I dream of him holding me and what he would say to me. I dream that he loves me and that he wants to be with me. I dream of the times I would lay on top of him, sometimes I can feel his heat, his broad shoulders. . . his lips, his smile, his soul, his love for me.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I never want to open them again.
then was so perfect.
But I don't know how he feels now. I look into his eyes and see love, but I don't know where it's directed and what feelings lie behind it. I hear him speak and I see him hurt, but I don't know what for, what about.
I close my eyes, I pretend to talk to him. I talk to him all the time. He convinces me to open my eyes again, he convinces me to stay awake so that I can love him. I pretend to understand, I pretend to love them being together. I don't pretend to love him, I simply do.
"Do you like my tiara?."
I love him. I dream of him. I am him.
Perhaps I am not what he is now but I am who he was then
The world moves so fast. Things change so fast. If only I could.
the biggest question that my whole kingdom has been built upon (cotton-candy mountains included) is
Does he miss me?
I cry because I miss him
I miss him so much.
And sometimes when we're locked up all alone, we forget the big picture.
I can't feel anymore. I want to curl up with someone and have them comfort me the way Jose did, but the truth is, I can't feel them. No matter how much people hug me and hold me, it doesn't bring comfort.
That's because I'm immune to them, I can't feel for them and I can only feel for Jose.
numb, that's why I'm numb. I can't feel them anymore, I can't feel anything anymore.
So I plaster a smile on my face and I dream.
Dreams are so sweet. . .
-----------
Who are we really?
I mean, in the end of everything, what is it all about?
We say "it's about you and me, I love you, you love me. This is life, this is what we are"
Maybe that is what we are. Maybe I am only half of what I was.
But who am I? I know I'm human, I know my name is Lane; who is Lane? What does a name mean, what does a face mean, what does a voice mean?
Somedays I pretend to understand, sometimes all I do is pretend. I feel like a little girl, wrapped in a leopard-patterened-cape with a jeweled crown and too-big shoes(twinkling red of course). I'm a princess in my dream, I pretend that I know my subjects, my land, what is right and what is wrong. . . in reality, I'm just a little girl wishing too big. Wishing for a better day to come. Why do we pretend like this? I pretend because I can't understand. Truly, deeply, I can't understand.
Honestly, I don't want to.
I think the answer will always be different, it will always be the same. That was then, this is now. Now? What is now? Who is now? Why is it now? Now is too soon, too fickle, too superficial. I don't love now. I loved then. I love what was, not what is.
I try to love what is.
"I cry because when I look into your eyes, I see your heart is broken. You smile with every effort, you help others with your broken spirit. You try so hard to be happy, you try to be a better person. I cry because you hurt and everytime you hurt, you try harder, everytime you hurt more, you smile more and you try to be positive. I cry because you try so hard and are never rewarded and you are trying to convince yourself that you don't need to be. I cry because I want to heal your heart. I cry because he is the only one that can. I cry because I want to be like you."
Words are beautiful. Words are powerful. I have to be what I am now, I have to pretend. If I don't pretend, I'll be lost within even darker lies. I sit with my back against the wall, I close my eyes. I dream of him holding me and what he would say to me. I dream that he loves me and that he wants to be with me. I dream of the times I would lay on top of him, sometimes I can feel his heat, his broad shoulders. . . his lips, his smile, his soul, his love for me.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I never want to open them again.
then was so perfect.
But I don't know how he feels now. I look into his eyes and see love, but I don't know where it's directed and what feelings lie behind it. I hear him speak and I see him hurt, but I don't know what for, what about.
I close my eyes, I pretend to talk to him. I talk to him all the time. He convinces me to open my eyes again, he convinces me to stay awake so that I can love him. I pretend to understand, I pretend to love them being together. I don't pretend to love him, I simply do.
"Do you like my tiara?."
I love him. I dream of him. I am him.
Perhaps I am not what he is now but I am who he was then
The world moves so fast. Things change so fast. If only I could.
the biggest question that my whole kingdom has been built upon (cotton-candy mountains included) is
Does he miss me?