It’s amazing how lost you can feel without the person you love in your life. I’m a mess. But things always end up happening for the best. Time can only tell.. but i’m lacking the patience to fight for what I know I deserve. I just want to feel worry-free and happy and loved for even just a minute.
i see me. i see every flaw, every imperfection and every good thing about me.
i am not a bad person. i would never go out of my way to cause harm to anyone.
there are happy days i see myself and long for someone exactly like me.
but moods like this where i feel caved in, isolated because of my own doing..
i look at myself and not out of insecurity or self doubt.. but out of pure honesty.. i don’t know if i would like me.
i’m in the mood to just sit on my floor and stare at the ceiling and let sad acoustic music take me to somewhere else; anywhere but my present state because i’m going mad. i want to light candles and just zone out but i’m still here and more than anything i want to be somewhere else but i do want here at the same time because i love you. and i hate writing because my mind is so blank but so full of everything at the same time and i’m so indecisive and i want to grow two hundred feet tall and destroy the world but only parts of it because there are gorgeous parts that are too beautiful to destroy. instead, i’ll be that ugly giant who just sits around and plays with the wonders of the world as little toys- and you’re each my dolls but i’ll be lonely because i’ll be the only giant and still.. none of this confusion or madness will disappear.. i’ll still be here in this now, thinking and thinking until my brain literally explodes.. and the entire world will be covered in exploded giant brain. please, play the cure at my funeral.
what is this? i am insane. i’m either a magnificent writer or a terribly confused, sleep-deprived teen who thinks she can turn a phrase.
i like feeling tired.. over-tired.
i like feeling like i need to sleep.
my eyes feel like a camera lens and i can focus on everything, maybe too much.
i wish i could see the world like this all the time.
the best part about staying up all night is when you finally drop to your bed. i like going to bed, sleeping the day away and dreaming endlessly the best kind of dreams.
i’m perfectly happy with how easily words flow out of me this early in the morning or this late at night. sleepless nights, beautiful words.
i’m destined to be a tortured, sleepless artist or writer, throwing my art across the world at funny hours with horrible sleep patterns and coffee stained paper. my fragile body cannot handle its caffeine.
the sun’s rising. the street lights still light up the streets but bits of bright blue sky peek out of the darkness. my eyes are heavy and i really should sleep but i must get all dolled up to pretend like i give a shit about my education.
i stayed up last night looking at photography and doing my laundry. freshly cleaned clothes feel so good against the skin- and in sleepy skin, it’s like rolling into a sleeping bag of hibernation. i’m a hibernating bear for the winter. i’ll see you in the spring. what am i doing? what is this? why.
goodnight. good morning.
winter anger 01.
i keep my mouth shut more often than not.
it’s a combination between me not thinking people deserve my words and not knowing exactly what words fit best.
instead of speaking, i sit quietly.. observing everyone’s mangled mayhem of a life.
i wish i was a musician.. i wish i didn’t give up playing guitar.. or stop plucking away at piano keys like i did as a kid.
maybe then these fumbled mishmashed words to a tune or chord strum would mean something to someone other than me
i wish i lived. i watch every day go because i assume it’s guaranteed. i’m falling into this depressive winter slump and i’m angrier than ever. i hate you. i hate all of you. i hate the way you live. i’m hypocritical. i’m naive and gullible because i never grew up where i needed to be otherwise. my life is endless gray and the snow hasn’t even stayed on the ground.
my life lacks all excitement.. except maybe pretending i’m doing something fun this weekend. i need to fly away. i can’t be here. i’m not me. i’m angry at myself that i’m still stuck in this dead-end town. the longer i’m here.. the more it’s going to destroy me until i’m decomposed. i’ve battled. i’ve tried to not let this town get to me. i’m breathing polluted air. how long can i breathe it until i’m fully poisoned?
i don’t know anymore. i don’t have words. i’m not healthy.
i am so full of hate.. i want to make myself throw up. maybe then i’d feel like everything is out of my system.
the ground is covered in soft bits of white.
it’s the fluffy type where one foot print into it and you can see the dying grass underneath.
the sun is up but the sky stays such a pale blue that the entire outside looks frosted.
flurries fly by my window and i know that the second my skin feels the cold damp up against it, it will regret ever once thinking it was beautiful.
i didn’t sleep tonight, the entire world looks foggy and unfocused, yet the outside scenery glows gorgeously leaving me think that maybe this beauty is clear.
tiny snow flakes fly past my window and the sun shines perfectly making each one sparkle.
it’s simply gorgeous
and mixed into my mind is how much i hate the winter.
i look back at myself and realize i wasn’t the person i was yesterday. my values have changed and maybe i’ve turned the complications into simplicity. nothing matters except beauty.
if i want to be honest and i wanted you to really know me, i’d tell you listen to the ramblings of robert smith..
listening to a letter to elise is like falling in love over and over again.
inspiration like no other, faded frosted green, damp, cold..
like late night drives along empty sideroads, little light on the road, but my hand in your hand and i feel beautiful. or a shine of moonlight on the autumn air, a change of scenery but no feeling change.
tingling sensations through my body, and an overall feeling of happiness- i am content.
i can see my breath in the air and my fingertips are slowly freezing to the point where everything i touch is numb. harsh, but smooth and simple. complaining about weather conditions and how the appearance of the sky is in sync with my mood, that’s real.
you could never know me though. i haven’t lived enough to know me.
for now, i’m simply a letter to elise played on repeat until life feels fiery warm, like magic.
i don’t do cliches. i don’t want to write some pathetic thing about love and life without you. you are simply the happiness in my life.
when i’m not with you i realize how harsh and cold and terrible the world is.
and how bitter i am towards everything and anyone that isn’t you.
without you, i boringly sit in my room and waste life away while throwing stale chips in my mouth, thinking too much about what else in my life is stale and past their expiry date. this town. this life. this me. this pessimistic, self-loathing, pitiful excuse for a person.
i’m shallow and low and judgemental and currently under this false pretense that the older i get, the better people surrounding me will become. i think it’s simply.. the older i get, the less shit i take- and the bigger hermit i become, closing myself off with stone walls to every disgusting person who hurts me with words and every gray ugly piece of the world that the true pessimists dwell on. that’s not me.
that will never be me.
yet day after day, my once optimistic self is falling deeper into this whole of negativity; a lost cause. fall is fading and the winter is near. endless day after day of cold, damp, cloudyness. Ugliness and lack of inspiration. No beauty. No life. We’re all drab and gray and dressed down and nothing makes sense because i need sunshine. it’s tuesday night in this town and all you can do here is go see a movie, smoke some weed or wallow in self pity.. though the last two might walk hand in hand.
the stale chips are making my head ache further than it needs to. i’m tempted to endure the cold for a refreshing walk; relaxation.. but i fear every breath will just be a harsh intake that i am stuck.. here.. in this reality with this shittyness of a person that is me.. contrasting with the perfection that is you.
I miss making out.
Like, when you make out with someone for the first time.. or the second.. or the third. It’s all brand new. Your hands in their hair. Their scent swirling around you. Their scent that they leave on your clothes. Your ears are sensitive to each sound they make. Every inhale and exhale. The soft breath of theirs on your skin sends you into shivers. But their hands warm you to the core.
It’s the anticipation. the anticipation of not knowing if this could be taken further. maybe not even wanting to take it any further. There could be a million things going through your head, but you’re just in this euphoric state of mind. It’s just simple. It’s innocence. It’s lips on lips and hushed breathing.
you’re creating a masterpiece of music and each kiss is a note to your song.
