well shit
i felt released after i wrote this, then my parents made me feel like shit again
I wait for the bell to ring, my hour of release and I fly like a bird that’s longed to be set free from its cage it’s whole life.
So happy, I’ll be happy when that bell rings, free, I’ll have fun and be full of joy.
But why do I say this?
That bell doesn’t grant me permitting to be happy, anything of the kind.
I rush to met people that turn out not to be there. So I make a detour then come back, expecting them to be there.
But they’re not.
And I stand there like the idiot I am and strange push me, bumping into me expecting me to leave though the gate.
But I don’t and stand there
Are they really there and I just can’t see them?
An inter day dependent in the gentle balance of seeing that one person kind face and expecting it, your expectation your all hope doe survive of your hope, and it’s all gone.
“Seems madam! Nay it is I know not “Seems.” ‘Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor cumtornary suit of solemn black, nor windy suspiration of forced breath, NO, nor the fruitful rive in the eye, Nor the dejected naviour of the visage, together with all forms, modes, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly. These indeed seems for they are show, these but the trappings and the suits of woe.”
And over done monologue I know by if I was Ophelia, I would of cling to Hamlet all the more for his madness and hatred. And do not have the strength to drowned myself.
My hour of release will be never, because the bell doesn’t stop time, nor guarantee a single thing but it will ring just the same tomorrow. I WILL BE THERE MY EXPECTION THERE FOR IT WAS TOT TO ME MY PEERS DAMN THEM TO THE INNER MOST CICLE OF HELL, and I can only hope Stalin will he there.
The Half Being
Daughter of the Moon and Sun, no lie.
feeling so tiny. i wish i was tiny, like one of FLB characters.
"They looked wickly lovely in darkness" ---- FLB