id like to right an email to the world to let it know that im confused.
that sometimes i just feel uncomfortable. and i feel maybe a change would be good.
during the ever existant process of staged maturing what i once thought was safety is now considered harmful or else it just makes me want to sit in a corner and cry at the tragic despair that somehow found me on the way.
im not sure what i would in fact say to the world.
if i could only send one word to the world, I dont know what it would be.
"mother" maybe or "love" or maybe just "open"...
its not just one feeling that makes me sad.
its the constent oblivion of funnel=forming images and mapping and memories.
im trying to find a seat, a warm bed to lie in with the world moving
around me.
with me moving around myself with only a general direction and a little hope i bought from some guy in harrisburg for ten dollars.
ever flowing carma like wind in a storm. will it knock the tree over?
or will it make the tree stronger?
good, bad , right ,wrong. black, white.
Nobody promised a loving hand. Nobody promised me self pity either but i seem to have no problem finding that.
Somedays i just feel slighted.
like im doing something terribly wrong and i reorganize my life patterns
like a mad ass record collection thats been getting bigger every minute.
do i have a way to express myself?
its just another question i have.
and im not feeling bad for myself im just wallowing in everything except
right now.
and im tired.
really tired.
I think ill go watch the rain...
that sometimes i just feel uncomfortable. and i feel maybe a change would be good.
during the ever existant process of staged maturing what i once thought was safety is now considered harmful or else it just makes me want to sit in a corner and cry at the tragic despair that somehow found me on the way.
im not sure what i would in fact say to the world.
if i could only send one word to the world, I dont know what it would be.
"mother" maybe or "love" or maybe just "open"...
its not just one feeling that makes me sad.
its the constent oblivion of funnel=forming images and mapping and memories.
im trying to find a seat, a warm bed to lie in with the world moving
around me.
with me moving around myself with only a general direction and a little hope i bought from some guy in harrisburg for ten dollars.
ever flowing carma like wind in a storm. will it knock the tree over?
or will it make the tree stronger?
good, bad , right ,wrong. black, white.
Nobody promised a loving hand. Nobody promised me self pity either but i seem to have no problem finding that.
Somedays i just feel slighted.
like im doing something terribly wrong and i reorganize my life patterns
like a mad ass record collection thats been getting bigger every minute.
do i have a way to express myself?
its just another question i have.
and im not feeling bad for myself im just wallowing in everything except
right now.
and im tired.
really tired.
I think ill go watch the rain...
