Burning

Even though. Albeit.

But still. Nevertheless.

Always. Forever. Never. Eternity.

Sharp. Trouble. Chaos. Silence.

Over & Over.

Thin and Razor-sharp. Old & faded. New. Crisscrossed.

Ashes and Dust.

Always & forever & never & for all eternity.

(though, I imagine they're all the same)

Ungrateful child. Wretched child. Vicious, Stray, Lost child.

But, everyone deserves a lullaby.

And God doesn't forsake any of his children.

Except, the words are gone.

Cut & strewn & scattered in the wind

(like the letters you never sent)

And the frozen moments knock the wind out of me,

sometimes.

I think they must be memories.

Except I keep forgetting what I should remember

while other thoughts come unbidden

Wicked girl. Cruel girl. Sharp, Angry, Crumbling girl.

Always on Fire.

Moths

Who is it that said "Some things don't change"? Everything changes. The sun rises, but on a different day. Nothing stays exactly the same way, because somewhere, something always changes.

...

But you know... if you took it moment by moment, and looked closer at the abstract concept of that frame... I guess you could say that some things do stay the same.

I guess in the end, the sun is just a much bigger match's much bigger flame.
And moths will be moths.

November to December

.

For three days, I was a nervous wreck. We were a scattered crew sailing through an electric storm. For three days, I was merely a blurry shadow on a burning boat. But we made it through. We didn't sink. It may not have been as great as it could have been, but it wasn't a complete disaster either. It happened. I didn't think we could but we did anyway. I'm happy and proud and depressed and so utterly sad. November's ending. And the wait returns.

But it's alright. December isn't all that bad either.

Every silver lining's got a touch of gray..

Autumn frosts may have slain July, but November rain melts everything.

Remind me to breathe?
.

Changing Constants; The Liars!

.
The constant flickering glow, she said. I didn't hear her, but she came to my window at midnight, whispering the same echoing words. They're still reverberating inside my head. A constant flickering echo.

Why?
Because it fits in times of absolute nothingness.

Absolute is an extreme term.
So is life.

Stories can only have happy endings if you know when to stop telling them. I hate second chances. Too many expectations.
And we live to disappoint.

I want you to know, but only after there's nothing you can do about it. Information is power and I would never let anyone have that kind of control over me.
Unless I was promised certain destruction?
(I still won't believe you)

Electric chair, two years. Rings a bell.
Bad joke or good joke in bad taste?

It's hard to tell sometimes...
especially if it's your own darkness you're humoring.
That's dark, but self-demeaning isn't defaming. You need a third party. Outside your head.
Tsk.
Retarded clauses.

Things and reasons and seasons change.
Why can't I?
There's no point in knocking on locked doors.
Especially when you're the one who lost the keys.

I don't know which way to pick
and the sun will always be in my eyes
I want to fly.
But I don't want you to wait to catch me, because I think I may remember how to.
And then what would you do?

Echoes fade and memories die
Autumn frosts have slain July...

Are you afraid?
No.
You should be...

.

The World

Can't risk it. Either way. If you know there's an electric chair waiting for you at the end of two years, life can easily become quite pointless. At least you burn, and not drown. Would you remind me to breathe?

Thoughts should always be accompanied with a sub-title file. Or you should be allowed to talk in pictures. I wish everyone would paint. Giving up is easier in a gray world. The trick is to keep the black and white from separating.

The only constant that should be allowed to flicker is fire. And fire doesn't like being called a constant.

Is something eluding you, sunshine?
Join the club, darling.


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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - She Looks To Me
via FoxyTunes

Seasons

.
The season of change is still here. Whether or not things are going to stay different is something only time knows. Secrets are burned or buried. Life is pointless, but there's nothing wrong with that. You can't destroy fairy dust. And dead fairies live only as long as you believe in them. I'm not me, but no one really is.

I don't know what tomorrow is going to bring or take away. And what I don't know about, I can't control. Ignorance may not be bliss, but it can come pretty close. Neglect works pretty well too... if you can kill off your conscience.

Even if I could fly, I wouldn't be able to get to the moon. And every single time I try, there's someone waiting to catch me. Tight ropes and burned bridges are fun to walk on. Because you know there are only two ways off. Either you reach the other side or you fall. It's all about balance. And you can't lose what you never had.

I used to think that you could only give what you have. But that isn't completely true. Sometimes you can give away borrowed things, even if you have no right to do so. You have to pay for everything, but that doesn't mean you can't get what you can't afford. You just collect debt. I'll deal with it later. Infinite debt plus a little more is still an infinite amount. And there's no point in worrying about things you can't change.

A fall from here won't be fatal.
And that is what worries me...

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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - She Looks To Me
via FoxyTunes

Maybe

Are things really getting better or are we just getting better at accepting them?

Either way, don't think about it now, you'll only make it worse.

Things change.

Echoes fade and memories die. Autumn frosts have slain July.

Goodbye July...

Watching smoke makes me feel sane again.

Ash is definite evidence, but what good does it ever do?

What shall we use to complete the wall?

Memories.

Bury memories with memories.

Bad with good.

And good with bad.

You know what's the only thing worse than the calm before a storm?
The calm after it.

I like where I am and I hate the fact that time won't stop carrying me away.

We contradict ourselves and we burn and we die.

We're all unforgiven.

And maybe that's all there is to it.

Maybe.

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Now playing: Shiro Sagisu - never meant to belong
via FoxyTunes

A New Day

Dawn is breaking, and once again I'm awake to see the light.

Too bad that the line has no metaphoric connotations whatsoever. That would make life simpler, yes? Instead I'm left watching the same stars fade and fall away and the same old beautiful broken moon every time I take a chance and look up.

I've been searching the skies for too long now. Nothing ever changes. Well, nothing significant. I mean sure, sometimes the moon isn't even there. And sometimes a star I get particularly attached to decides to crash and burn, but in the end it's all almost the same. Almost.

They say hell is an endless cycle of similar events. I thought that was how life was defined. But then again, "endless" is pretty huge. Not something I can even dare comprehend without kissing sanity goodbye. Ah, but the only thing longer than forever is never, right? In which case it isn't exactly impossible to imagine eternity. We do so much worse every day.

It should bother me. The fact that I don't even want the sun anymore. But it's already been quietly accepted in a peaceful wisp of smoke. Besides, there are a lot of things that should bother me and don't. Why should this be any different? No reason at all.

Oh, I could fix my sleep cycle. I could sleep at night and socialize in the day. But these words keep floating by: "No one says anything important during the day." So true, and so deftly eliminating my one (make-believe) reason to fix things. Like a head shot.

Everything I need is right in front of me. And I'm not allowed to touch a thing. Because if I do, I can never have the things I want. And never is a very very long time. So, I lean back, close my eyes and let the smoke dance around. Fragile is relative. And Patience is a virtue. Glass is nothing but sand. Sometimes strength can end up becoming beautiful and fragile. But fragile is relative. And the moon always comes back. "Everything under the sun is in tune , but the sun is eclipsed by the moon." Eclipses are what everything is about. And everything is what eclipses are about. Maybe I should relocate, but where can I go to escape the moon? And why would I want to? Songs. Beauty. Silence. Words. Sadness. Memories. Perhaps I'm just an easy person to haunt. Perhaps it's what comes out of waiting on the dark side of the moon. A tear can sometimes help pass time. Me? I prefer cigarettes. I guess sooner or later, I'll have to take that last drag.
But not yet.
Not just yet.

You can't smoke in planes

I've realized that you can't write under two circumstances. One is the obvious nothing-going-on phase. And the other is when things happen so fast and in such quick succession that you barely have time to think through them, let alone about them!

You write in transit. When nothing happens. Because that's the only time you can sit back and rerun memories.

I can't form sentences anymore. They get all jumbled up inside my head, and I end up knowing what I want to say, but from such a hazy distance that it's abstract nonsense when I actually put it down.

As I was telling FBC today, it's like going sky-diving. I'm on the plane, I have the parachute all ready (or at least I hope), and I've taken off. All preparations have been made. Still, it isn't too late to turn back. And though I know, that eventually, I am going to jump, I can still doubt my decision. It's only once I'm in the air that I will forget about worrying. I hate the period of waiting. And you can't even smoke in planes. -_-

Other than the usual, updates involve Miss Sunshine's new relationship. I'm glad for her, and the fairytale-ness of the story appeals to me. I'm supposed to meet the new boy tomorrow. Well, we'll see how that goes.

As for me, accelerate or brake. I'm still confused. I need to decide soon, because one foot is already on the clutch and I need to change gears now. Like I said before, I hate the waiting phase...