(no subject)

[viviste]

There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

i felt something brewing today
inside me like some stew
it was chunky and thick
and it hurt my heart to feel it.
i recognize what it was when it came out
and it still lingers here

someone asked me today why i like film and i spat out some stupid-sounding answer, but i keep thinking about that question--why. it's like...why do i like art? i don't know i thought of mayn different answers. many many answers...but none that really answered the question.
i guess i like it cause i just do. i like manipulating worlds. i like creating and being a part of things. i like creating art. i like being somewhere else. i like convey messages. i like mimicking life. i don't know...there is everything and anything.
like that--that's not even a whole answer that's not even an answer at all... i'm unsatisfied...but that is how i am i suppose.
random ramblings of an angered mind.