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[04 Sep 2007|05:14am] |
cd's are exchanged and plans forgotten, names blurred, only faces remain sharp.
somehow the curl of an eyelash or the wrinkle of a dimple during a smile are always more striking than a collection of consonants and vowels one inevitably shares.
life's a carousel of memories, the ghosts dance with the bodies. they just pass through, they're not solid, but you feel a shiver every time. those tuned in might catch it, that flicker of pain across your face, but most would just assume you got something in your eye.
there's always something in my eye.
i hate to make promises i can't keep so i avoid making promises at all, but you can count on me to always tell the truth, sometimes to the point of being offensive. i only tell lies of omission, i leave out pieces of the story or the off-putting parts when relaying my "honest first impression" of someone i actually like. i usually initially dislike the people i come to love the best.
i've got to learn to separate my fiction from my facts. i've got to stop romanticizing everything until it's a mere perfumed shadow, be it dark or light. everything just needs to be more with me, things can't just "be". prettier, dirtier, sadder or happier. just let it be, baby.
gotta gotta gotta start writing again, not just little bursts and rants.
i'm going to fuel this passion.
i'm going to keep cleaning my room. ohh reality, you're a bitch.
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[04 Sep 2007|05:54am] |
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i made four private entries tonight
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_like_weeds