Mounting Tensions
The break is coming soon. I can feel it. It's going to snap, and my life is going to explode. I don't know what to expect when the dust settles. It could be bliss. It could be a rerun. Either way, it's coming.
I have a sense about these things. I thrive on this shit.
I meant to look for my old journal today. I wanted to fix it up. The hold up is, I draw in it too, and I have pictures to finish before I can write in it again. I know that doesn't make sense. Besides, real journals are overrated. I feel the Internet lends my journal a significance it wouldn't have if I were the only one who saw it or knew about it.
Privacy, you say? Secrets are for the weak. And the frightened.
Vacation, beach, blah blah, fuck it. Barely anything merits mention anymore. Nothing really excites me. When I look back at this part of my life, I will only remember the faces of the people who stole my heart, and whether or not I ended up regretting it. That's where all the important shit is. The highlighted passages.
I may not even remember the the things they made me feel.
For the record? Hope. Fear. Rage. Love.
I have a sense about these things. I thrive on this shit.
I meant to look for my old journal today. I wanted to fix it up. The hold up is, I draw in it too, and I have pictures to finish before I can write in it again. I know that doesn't make sense. Besides, real journals are overrated. I feel the Internet lends my journal a significance it wouldn't have if I were the only one who saw it or knew about it.
Privacy, you say? Secrets are for the weak. And the frightened.
Vacation, beach, blah blah, fuck it. Barely anything merits mention anymore. Nothing really excites me. When I look back at this part of my life, I will only remember the faces of the people who stole my heart, and whether or not I ended up regretting it. That's where all the important shit is. The highlighted passages.
I may not even remember the the things they made me feel.
For the record? Hope. Fear. Rage. Love.