A dark world aches for a splash of the sun
It's been a few years since I've met someone who's made me want to write music again. I guess when you meet someone who sheds that much light in the world around him; you realize that he belongs in a song, like so many people before him. And I will probably sit over my guitar for a few frustrated hours, cursing the lack of practice over the years that has blocked me from being able to actually articulate what's in my head; but I can't even fit the right words into the poetry that's slowly spinning in my mind (the poetry that I would use for lyrics). For any poet, you would know what it feels like to have that one good line, but no other good lines to surround it. They all just seem like oatmeal next to it.
I'll always be in love with the world. I've shown myself that even in my darkest moment--even if it's subconscious--I'm still in love with life and what it can teach me, what it can show me. Outside right now, the leaves are fading with life as the cool winds breeze through them. Despite that, the sunlight still dazzles them in a way that's indescribable to no one else but them. I'm like one of those leaves. Sure, I have my demons, and they cascade through me like I'm the devil's playground. But the sunlight dances on my eyelids and lashes, reminding me that there will be warmth. There will always be warmth, as long as I look for it in the right places. And I'm the only one who can really say what's going on. I'm the only one who can write for my power or my individuality.
I still feel a bit heavy from a few days ago. It's odd how this year has been full of the most challenging heartaches of my life. I don't think I've ever lived this much. I've never been this alive. And, yet, I was willing to throw it away for a few short hours. I suppose that's because life hurts. It hurts quite a bit for me because the pain isn't something I can just take some Advil for or put a bandaid over. It's completely emotional. In my opinion, that's the most challenging pain one could have in this life. Physical pain isn't much next to it, which is why I used to cut in high school. For now, though, I'm back to my chemically-addled even self. I plan to keep it this way for a long time. My pain has always translated into other people's pain. My flame burns as many people possible while it's burning. I'm sick and tired of hurting those around me. It's time I started shining the light that I know is inside of me and giving warmth--and not burns--to those I love. My poor sister is probably raw with the burns I've thrown at her over the years. It's a wonder she still reaches for the flame, but she does. I wish I could find a friend like that. And I feel like I may have, but it exploded and fizzled too quickly for anything to develop. That seems to be a pattern this year, really. It's an exhausting pattern; but, like a moth to the blow torch, I still ride back into the temptation just to get burned once more.
Regardless, I'm still thinking about him. It's not like it was with the drummer. That was obsessive and needed to be put down like a cancerous dog. No, this is more like a whisper in my ear, reminding me every once in a while how kind he was to me. It gives me a bit of a start before the rush of guilt and shame kicks in. Man, I wish I could write a song...
I'll always be in love with the world. I've shown myself that even in my darkest moment--even if it's subconscious--I'm still in love with life and what it can teach me, what it can show me. Outside right now, the leaves are fading with life as the cool winds breeze through them. Despite that, the sunlight still dazzles them in a way that's indescribable to no one else but them. I'm like one of those leaves. Sure, I have my demons, and they cascade through me like I'm the devil's playground. But the sunlight dances on my eyelids and lashes, reminding me that there will be warmth. There will always be warmth, as long as I look for it in the right places. And I'm the only one who can really say what's going on. I'm the only one who can write for my power or my individuality.
I still feel a bit heavy from a few days ago. It's odd how this year has been full of the most challenging heartaches of my life. I don't think I've ever lived this much. I've never been this alive. And, yet, I was willing to throw it away for a few short hours. I suppose that's because life hurts. It hurts quite a bit for me because the pain isn't something I can just take some Advil for or put a bandaid over. It's completely emotional. In my opinion, that's the most challenging pain one could have in this life. Physical pain isn't much next to it, which is why I used to cut in high school. For now, though, I'm back to my chemically-addled even self. I plan to keep it this way for a long time. My pain has always translated into other people's pain. My flame burns as many people possible while it's burning. I'm sick and tired of hurting those around me. It's time I started shining the light that I know is inside of me and giving warmth--and not burns--to those I love. My poor sister is probably raw with the burns I've thrown at her over the years. It's a wonder she still reaches for the flame, but she does. I wish I could find a friend like that. And I feel like I may have, but it exploded and fizzled too quickly for anything to develop. That seems to be a pattern this year, really. It's an exhausting pattern; but, like a moth to the blow torch, I still ride back into the temptation just to get burned once more.
Regardless, I'm still thinking about him. It's not like it was with the drummer. That was obsessive and needed to be put down like a cancerous dog. No, this is more like a whisper in my ear, reminding me every once in a while how kind he was to me. It gives me a bit of a start before the rush of guilt and shame kicks in. Man, I wish I could write a song...
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