Wow... Melodrama anyone? though, at that time, I really was well... depressed. Not a suicidal, I want to kill ymself to end it all depression, but a... I don't want to tlak to anyone, hide under the blankeets, holding back screams and tears, depression. I don't know what it was, and I'm pretty sure that beside one person, no one really knew what was going on.
I'm fine now.
OMG... I am feeling so feisty right now! Just got off work, and I have the smartest mouth this sde of Rhode Island! It's tlaking for itself! lmao I hope the pats win, for the first time in who knows how long(me wanting them to win, not them winning...)? LoL
Heheheheheh!!!! OMG! Okay, so... I'm kinda raring to go someplace and jsut... fly around, but there's noplace to go... Poop. But, me and Sb are going for coffee and lessons tomorro! Woot!
Saturday, January 10, 2004
Sunday, January 04, 2004
I am drowning in a sea of black, roiling, whirling, boiling, begging for me to give up and succumb, to slip beneath its oily surface, give myself up to the abyss below, where truth and lies are all the same, and love and hate mean nothing; this is the place where I was found, and this is where I sleep, where I lay my head and what I think about.
((Written after everything else.) I wonder if anyone ever reads this thing... They can't, and if they did, they'd think I was suicidal. I'm really not, jsut having a ahrd time with everything... It's winter. In more ways than one. I endure, bending as the willow, but never breaking, as the tall, proud oak... I bow and weep and sing in the wind, but never break. Do you even know what I'm tlaking about? How can you? You don't -know- me, you don't know what I've been through, the things I've loved, the wonders I've seen or felt. I'm not dumb, I understand. I just don't break... I sway to the music of life, the rythm of circumstances, the beat of my own drum. And don't ever criticize me for it. I wonder how many things a psychotherapist could find "wrong" with me... Probably too many. I'm better in ignorance, I should think.)
I read these things that disturb me so, and I don't know what i want to say. I want to ask him what's wrong, is it anything? Or, are you jsut writing because it feels good and you can? Or... Is it something that I don't want to know, becuase it could be bad?
I don't know how to say or write what I'm feeling, he seems to have that gift, able to speak his mind with words then pour his whole soul behind it with a guitar. I have words to say, but no instrument to show my meaning. Damn. Maybe I just need to get better with words.
To My Dark Guitarist:
Dearest, there are more people in the world to love you than hate you, though I get the feeling that very few know you. I hope that guitar shows them what you see, feel, need. I hope that you are succesful in whatever you do, may it be Marines, music, or love. But remember... Everything comes to an end, whether it be good or bad, everything ends. So, enjoy life as you know it, as it is, whether good or bad, because soon enough, you won't remember the stabbing, throbbing bittersweet clarity of every moment on this earth. Pretty soon, it all fades to black.
Luv,
Me
((Written after everything else.) I wonder if anyone ever reads this thing... They can't, and if they did, they'd think I was suicidal. I'm really not, jsut having a ahrd time with everything... It's winter. In more ways than one. I endure, bending as the willow, but never breaking, as the tall, proud oak... I bow and weep and sing in the wind, but never break. Do you even know what I'm tlaking about? How can you? You don't -know- me, you don't know what I've been through, the things I've loved, the wonders I've seen or felt. I'm not dumb, I understand. I just don't break... I sway to the music of life, the rythm of circumstances, the beat of my own drum. And don't ever criticize me for it. I wonder how many things a psychotherapist could find "wrong" with me... Probably too many. I'm better in ignorance, I should think.)
I read these things that disturb me so, and I don't know what i want to say. I want to ask him what's wrong, is it anything? Or, are you jsut writing because it feels good and you can? Or... Is it something that I don't want to know, becuase it could be bad?
I don't know how to say or write what I'm feeling, he seems to have that gift, able to speak his mind with words then pour his whole soul behind it with a guitar. I have words to say, but no instrument to show my meaning. Damn. Maybe I just need to get better with words.
To My Dark Guitarist:
Dearest, there are more people in the world to love you than hate you, though I get the feeling that very few know you. I hope that guitar shows them what you see, feel, need. I hope that you are succesful in whatever you do, may it be Marines, music, or love. But remember... Everything comes to an end, whether it be good or bad, everything ends. So, enjoy life as you know it, as it is, whether good or bad, because soon enough, you won't remember the stabbing, throbbing bittersweet clarity of every moment on this earth. Pretty soon, it all fades to black.
Luv,
Me