I wear red and purple while I can. The midday moon shone it's best, and I kept the day safe while I walked into the night. I now carry a company of children, men, and women, trying to save what I can, someone who still can believe in something more.
It's been a long time since someone's chased after me, but it reminds me that I am not alone on the roads I walk. It gives me greater hope, and lets me dream of a peace to be attained. Because I've found that peace is not something that can be found alone. What is a King without his kingdom?
I've traveled a long way, I've walked through the wind, the rain, through lightning storm and hurricane alike, braved my best alone in the freezing snow more times than I can count on hand. Though never having a place to call home weighed heavier than any other burden, and it was all that pressed on my mind.
Home. The most familiar word that echoes in my mind more than any other, that associates an almost childish kind of longing. I had a people once, lovers once, believers once. Things change. I changed. But now I seem to have found some place somewhere, similar yet entirely different. As is said, not all is well and not every thing is quite right, but maybe that's because of my own account. Settling, moving on. I've found love again, a siren's call here yet there. I've held a place, found it's worth, yet I am still invisible, through a looking glass as one ever was.
I hope to build anew. I've wandered for far, far too long.
If anything, I feel needed, and it's come time to set my tent, rest, and teach something new. I've already begun, in setting forth a motion that will make waves.
I have come to make a mark, to change the world again, as someone who believes in more, and believes in you.
17.9.10
You can't lose all the time.
I slept for awhile. My dreams are erratic, from full blown lucidity to an immersion where my subconscious takes me where I need to go. With the former, I've gotten to the point where I can stick my tongue out in a dream, open my left eye and look at my bedroom ceiling, and still peer into my dream with my right eye. It's a very odd way of being half-awake. It takes practice to perform such a magic trick, such that I have to walk around with one eye closed frequently.
Some people tell me I'm not a magician. Well, you have yet to run into me in a dream then, because if you had, there would be no doubting what I'm capable of.
With the latter dreams, my subconscious will strip away my absolute lying self and tell me how I really feel. It told me I loved her with all my heart still despite me telling myself I no longer cared, and proved it. I'm a sucker, but it's all I can be. Though dreams can't change reality.
What pisses me off is that I can't even be dramatic about it.
I woke up feeling better than I did last night. Being able to dream is the only reason I've made it thus far, because it gives me something more to believe in. Otherwise, I'd be long gone, driven insane by the mediocrity of most of normality.
I think her room number was 1806, or something of the sort. I even remember what it looked like, and I wish I could've stayed longer before my alarm woke me up, even if it was just to watch a movie.
Thought you mind find it interesting; the only reason I didn't recognize her was because she pronounced her name differently.
Some people tell me I'm not a magician. Well, you have yet to run into me in a dream then, because if you had, there would be no doubting what I'm capable of.
With the latter dreams, my subconscious will strip away my absolute lying self and tell me how I really feel. It told me I loved her with all my heart still despite me telling myself I no longer cared, and proved it. I'm a sucker, but it's all I can be. Though dreams can't change reality.
What pisses me off is that I can't even be dramatic about it.
I woke up feeling better than I did last night. Being able to dream is the only reason I've made it thus far, because it gives me something more to believe in. Otherwise, I'd be long gone, driven insane by the mediocrity of most of normality.
I think her room number was 1806, or something of the sort. I even remember what it looked like, and I wish I could've stayed longer before my alarm woke me up, even if it was just to watch a movie.
Thought you mind find it interesting; the only reason I didn't recognize her was because she pronounced her name differently.
Somewhere.
My brother found me earlier this year.
I was in the darkest corner of my own mind, hiding from the world. I was sorely tempted to be left there, but he knew I'd die sooner than the universe wanted me to if I had. He told me we were still needed. My birthday is coming up, and with it, the shadow of my potential demise. Every birthday I've had for the past several years has been increasingly traumatic, leaving me a distraught crying mess somewhere. I don't know what it is that causes it, but it's something that resembles a reality check, where I look back upon my entire life and see how happy I am with how far I've come.
For some reason, I never feel like I've managed to do anything at all.
This year I hope is different. I am no different from last year, but I hope that my actions will reflect upon myself much better, and will leave me with my barely sustained state of contentment. Otherwise, I might kill myself. I say that because I know that I won't, even if in reality every year I get closer to just letting everything go in such a fashion that the only possible result is I burn out and die young. But every year, I hold on to some small spark of hope that life will reward me for my perseverance, my actions with good intent, my kind demeanor, and the virtues that have held my darkest self at bay for so long.
It hasn't yet. But I suppose the only aspect of hope is that it can only be expected to be fulfilled, nothing less, nothing more.
I am beyond the reach of anyone now. My brother has died a tragic death indirectly at the hands of humanity, his only fault that he tried his best to find good in them, and was inexorably yet needlessly punished for it. I tried to tell him, but he could do no less than what he strove for, for that was his true nature. He could do nothing but believe in the spirit of humanity, because to doubt anyone else was to doubt himself. I cried once for him, and once more for humanity, because they know not what they lost in their ignorance. It could be said his words left weight with me, but they hold no influence over me, for it is my nature to doubt humanity. One day I will take on his hope, but until then, I can only carry a saddened gait that knows no aspiration.
I cannot believe in love. This is because I cannot bring myself any longer to believe in another person as I've seen no-one else is capable of believing in me. I gave myself to the fire only to burn in it foolishly.
I didn't quit smoking, drinking, or venturing into that 'other' world to forget the normal reality, because I am an escapist in half my heart. I feel if I didn't run, I'd be swallowed whole by the maw and pressures of the real world. It is a far too ugly truth to face, and though I know it, I cannot abide by it 'til comes time I am able to change it. Though secretly I fear I never will be able to.
For majority of this year I have slept, and let my now dead brother reign over our affairs, but now I know that to be a mistake. I thought there might be some good left in the heart of man, that I no longer had a need for that dark corner of the mind, but I was wrong. The truth needs to be told, no matter how ugly.
I will not die before my time, because another time is coming, and it is one that requires me to be present and ready. I am a pessimist, but it allows me to account for every wrong turn taken. The universe still needs me to right it, because no-one can work a miracle like a magician.
I was in the darkest corner of my own mind, hiding from the world. I was sorely tempted to be left there, but he knew I'd die sooner than the universe wanted me to if I had. He told me we were still needed. My birthday is coming up, and with it, the shadow of my potential demise. Every birthday I've had for the past several years has been increasingly traumatic, leaving me a distraught crying mess somewhere. I don't know what it is that causes it, but it's something that resembles a reality check, where I look back upon my entire life and see how happy I am with how far I've come.
For some reason, I never feel like I've managed to do anything at all.
This year I hope is different. I am no different from last year, but I hope that my actions will reflect upon myself much better, and will leave me with my barely sustained state of contentment. Otherwise, I might kill myself. I say that because I know that I won't, even if in reality every year I get closer to just letting everything go in such a fashion that the only possible result is I burn out and die young. But every year, I hold on to some small spark of hope that life will reward me for my perseverance, my actions with good intent, my kind demeanor, and the virtues that have held my darkest self at bay for so long.
It hasn't yet. But I suppose the only aspect of hope is that it can only be expected to be fulfilled, nothing less, nothing more.
I am beyond the reach of anyone now. My brother has died a tragic death indirectly at the hands of humanity, his only fault that he tried his best to find good in them, and was inexorably yet needlessly punished for it. I tried to tell him, but he could do no less than what he strove for, for that was his true nature. He could do nothing but believe in the spirit of humanity, because to doubt anyone else was to doubt himself. I cried once for him, and once more for humanity, because they know not what they lost in their ignorance. It could be said his words left weight with me, but they hold no influence over me, for it is my nature to doubt humanity. One day I will take on his hope, but until then, I can only carry a saddened gait that knows no aspiration.
I cannot believe in love. This is because I cannot bring myself any longer to believe in another person as I've seen no-one else is capable of believing in me. I gave myself to the fire only to burn in it foolishly.
I didn't quit smoking, drinking, or venturing into that 'other' world to forget the normal reality, because I am an escapist in half my heart. I feel if I didn't run, I'd be swallowed whole by the maw and pressures of the real world. It is a far too ugly truth to face, and though I know it, I cannot abide by it 'til comes time I am able to change it. Though secretly I fear I never will be able to.
For majority of this year I have slept, and let my now dead brother reign over our affairs, but now I know that to be a mistake. I thought there might be some good left in the heart of man, that I no longer had a need for that dark corner of the mind, but I was wrong. The truth needs to be told, no matter how ugly.
I will not die before my time, because another time is coming, and it is one that requires me to be present and ready. I am a pessimist, but it allows me to account for every wrong turn taken. The universe still needs me to right it, because no-one can work a miracle like a magician.
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