running along the train tracks
six steps two
tracing back our footsteps
what did we do?
eyes full of wonder
looking back and forth
louder than thunder
screaming for love lost
Monday 16 February 2015
Tuesday 20 May 2014
Chasing the moon
Have you ever sat down alone in your room, on your bed and start to think? About everything and nothing; all the regrets that could've been avoided, all the wrongs that have never made it right, and all the decisions you seemed to be correct when you made them - oh how proud you've been. Then you start to doubt yourself; questioning your words, actions, and the people around you - and you've dived into the cavern and began to suspect what's in it for your friends to support you so willingly.
You start bashing and chiding yourself, reminding and remembering only the positive aspects of everyone who has been there with you. You feel guilty.
Don't fall into that hole, you'd never reach the bottom.
I'm in one of those moods, whereby I start to question the reason for my existence and it never ends well. Positive characteristics are possessed by everyone else but me, I have none. I am the scum of this world. I am digging my grave, I push people away. I hide myself inside the ugliness, an alter ego feeding on the undesirables.
Why?
I am a lone wolf; fae without folk.
A vampire without a murder; a witch without a coven.
A single flower on a mountain; a tree without its roots.
I don't belong anywhere.
And I try, oh how hard I've tried to connect and reconnect with people who seem to be there yet aren't there at all. Most of them think I'm giving them the pass when I dwell in the moments I retreat from society. The moments where I suck myself into my own world, giving myself a "me" time and giving everything else a stop sign.
I find it difficult to introduce a group of my friends to another, always because I never act the same way around different groups. I have long sharpened the art of BFFs-yet-never-fully-opened-myself-up. I disgust myself. I don't feel comfortable sharing my problems with other people, even when I need help. My mouth always seem to be glued, held together by duct tape. Words lost me.
As though I've never cared about them.
I'm an old soul, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped up in the trappings of the modern world. Never once have I not thought about travelling back to bygone eras, the allure of understanding the people and living in those days.
I am a collection of paradoxes, of contradictions. What I want opposes each other. I want everything, I want the world. My love for these things are blinding, with only restraints shielding me, and oh how I long to be blinded.
They say go be yourself, and yet it was never told how alone being truly yourself is. They still expect you to conform to society's expectations. We are fed with truths laced with poison, antidote filled with lies.
It's getting really burdensome and demanding to chase your dreams these days. All they look at is money money money. I am so sick of this era, of technology surpassing humans, of wishes and dreams gone to waste. I'm not even twenty yet.
You start bashing and chiding yourself, reminding and remembering only the positive aspects of everyone who has been there with you. You feel guilty.
Don't fall into that hole, you'd never reach the bottom.
I'm in one of those moods, whereby I start to question the reason for my existence and it never ends well. Positive characteristics are possessed by everyone else but me, I have none. I am the scum of this world. I am digging my grave, I push people away. I hide myself inside the ugliness, an alter ego feeding on the undesirables.
Why?
I am a lone wolf; fae without folk.
A vampire without a murder; a witch without a coven.
A single flower on a mountain; a tree without its roots.
I don't belong anywhere.
And I try, oh how hard I've tried to connect and reconnect with people who seem to be there yet aren't there at all. Most of them think I'm giving them the pass when I dwell in the moments I retreat from society. The moments where I suck myself into my own world, giving myself a "me" time and giving everything else a stop sign.
I find it difficult to introduce a group of my friends to another, always because I never act the same way around different groups. I have long sharpened the art of BFFs-yet-never-fully-opened-myself-up. I disgust myself. I don't feel comfortable sharing my problems with other people, even when I need help. My mouth always seem to be glued, held together by duct tape. Words lost me.
As though I've never cared about them.
I'm an old soul, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped up in the trappings of the modern world. Never once have I not thought about travelling back to bygone eras, the allure of understanding the people and living in those days.
I am a collection of paradoxes, of contradictions. What I want opposes each other. I want everything, I want the world. My love for these things are blinding, with only restraints shielding me, and oh how I long to be blinded.
They say go be yourself, and yet it was never told how alone being truly yourself is. They still expect you to conform to society's expectations. We are fed with truths laced with poison, antidote filled with lies.
It's getting really burdensome and demanding to chase your dreams these days. All they look at is money money money. I am so sick of this era, of technology surpassing humans, of wishes and dreams gone to waste. I'm not even twenty yet.
Maybe it's time words start to form answers in tune to my questions (they never really look like it).
I hope that one day, I will reach the moon.
That day can't come soon enough.
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