I must not lie in your thoughts as you do mine.
Because then maybe you'll wait for me once in a while.
I want to jump off the cliff of routine.
I write all this for you.
There is something I must say
I am mad.
If I crush the leaves I've pocketed away for safe keeping,
Will the sentiments before be the same?
Or does it change for me, accordingly, to the nature of my action?
See, this is what bothers me: that despite my quick feelings mustered, I cannot quite settle it into words unless I jot it down that instant. It is afterward that the words, they lose me--in the thick of all the gray matter trapped in my head--and I cannot, for the life of me, gain enough thought to pull it out. Unless, of course, I write it down that instant. This is an instant I'm sharing. Once it's over, I would probably never find it. If, in a special case, I happen to come across it once again. There are many mistakes I find in my reasoning, as well. But I don't want to share them with you. Only that I am frustrated. With this and with myself and with all of us.
There are so many things I have to say.
But why I can't say it, I don't know.
Maybe because I think it will hurt me in the end.
Where my barriers become blurred--the one that told me when to stop--it is my superior.
It covers me from humility, from the pangs of Time.
I can tell myself to love less, but I just can't help it.
And maybe, maybe it doesn't matter. None of it.
Hi five if you give a damn, anyway.
Posted by ABCDErica at 8:36 PM