If everything could ever feel this real forever
This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe until their dying breath
I'm bordering poverty, with $70 dollars to my name. I have yet to complete a gigantic Philosophy assignment that was due yesterday. I am almost sure that I failed my math exam. My laundry isn't finished. The coffee I made this morning is much too weak. My aunt desperately needs a letter from me; I know she won't make it another year. Shadow needs a bath. My car needs new tires. Cat needs food. Hair needs trimming. Hands need lotion. Floor needs vaccuuming. Bags need packing.
And for some mysterious reason, I feel very excited to be alive today. Everything seems very beautiful. The world seems "...apparelled in celestial light." Oh Wordsworth, I love you.
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
Then try and love the things you took
And you stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And, walking arm in arm,
You hope it don't get harmed
And even if it does
You'll just do it all again.