If walls could talk
-borrowed-
I wonder what the walls would say, the stories they would tell, if they could talk. It's a very cliche' thought, but not unworthy of a good debate.
Better yet, what would I say to the walls if we were eer to converse. Would I offer my explanations as to why I've been so disrespectful to my parents on certain occasions, or pull our resources of reference to the hormones that supposedly control my every action? Would I take in and breathe the information dealt to me, or would I be bitter to the idea that my walls dont think I'm unique in my darraigned actions? The actions that only they are entrusted to view. In their silence. With their knowledge of my private behavior, would they be counseling, or scolding? Perhaps indifferent.
Maybe... the walls would have the same self mutilation characteristics as myself. Explaining the cracks and holes that always happen to appear. Giving consolation to the settling, creaking noises that they make at night, as I listen in familiarity. What if they feel as if they were about to buckle and give way at any given moment? Would they speak up in time? Or just attempt to hold themselves up, quietly observing as their foundations deteriorates.
If they did talk, I hope they wouldnt say I was mean to them. I would hate that. There is nothing worse than when you see that awesome, kind but tough, guard-like figure stuck keeping a rude, crude, snotty, kid safe from 'harms way' in the movies. If I was to find that my unappreciated walls and I had that kind of relationship, I would be upset.
I wonder if my walls get upset. I mean, I have affairs with other walls all the time. A night at Courtney's, a night down in the den. I would surely get upset if my walls left me for a better, more reliable, and saner person to look after and protect.
I wonder if my walls need repainting...
I wonder what the walls would say, the stories they would tell, if they could talk. It's a very cliche' thought, but not unworthy of a good debate.
Better yet, what would I say to the walls if we were eer to converse. Would I offer my explanations as to why I've been so disrespectful to my parents on certain occasions, or pull our resources of reference to the hormones that supposedly control my every action? Would I take in and breathe the information dealt to me, or would I be bitter to the idea that my walls dont think I'm unique in my darraigned actions? The actions that only they are entrusted to view. In their silence. With their knowledge of my private behavior, would they be counseling, or scolding? Perhaps indifferent.
Maybe... the walls would have the same self mutilation characteristics as myself. Explaining the cracks and holes that always happen to appear. Giving consolation to the settling, creaking noises that they make at night, as I listen in familiarity. What if they feel as if they were about to buckle and give way at any given moment? Would they speak up in time? Or just attempt to hold themselves up, quietly observing as their foundations deteriorates.
If they did talk, I hope they wouldnt say I was mean to them. I would hate that. There is nothing worse than when you see that awesome, kind but tough, guard-like figure stuck keeping a rude, crude, snotty, kid safe from 'harms way' in the movies. If I was to find that my unappreciated walls and I had that kind of relationship, I would be upset.
I wonder if my walls get upset. I mean, I have affairs with other walls all the time. A night at Courtney's, a night down in the den. I would surely get upset if my walls left me for a better, more reliable, and saner person to look after and protect.
I wonder if my walls need repainting...