iLoveYouWithaKnife
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2002
- Messages
- 8,351
I can't begin to describe just how differently it is I feel.
Everything around me, my surroundings, are the same.
There's just this new casting light showing me the brighter side, perhaps.
And I have to say, it feels great.
I page through this tattered pages
of this book I used to write it.
It's been opened and closed so many fucking times
that the bindings broken.
Nothing is really holding that book together
but a piece of twine wrapped around it
and some memories I never thought I'd be able to live down.
The more I look at it, the more depressed I get.
Page after page I just see anger and sadness,
scribbled out through a pen.
And even after that book was filled,
there's scattered pages that look identical,
or words typed and saved.
They all have something in common,
the tears that were running down my face,
as I was writing those pieces.
I just can't quite seem to figure out why,
nothing was going to promise a better tomorrow.
Or why I never wrote about the happy today.
Just horrid happens in detail,
to read at a later date and relive it again,
once it was done.
I think about how in my mind I would say,
"I just want to go back to 'this time'."
but then I think about it somemore.
I really, I just kinda want to stay where I'm at right now.
So many times I wished I was back in Philadelphia.
Maybe because it's not here.
I thought about how when I was there,
I never really was sad. I never even got angry.
And maybe that's just what I wanted again,
until I realized, I was dead.
I was so fucked up
I had no emotions, no feelings, no nothing.
And when I came back here to live in the attic
I let those four walls suck me in
and make me feel nothing, like I'm so use to feeling.
And it seemed like there were all these problems,
but somehow now, I feel like there is none.
Not because I feel dead again,
perhaps because I feel so alive...
And those so-called problems just feel so amature.
...like I why should I even bother dwelling.
There's so many other more important things.
Things that can make me happy.
Finally I got to break away from behind those walls,
and move into this place
with all this space, that I don't know what to do with.
Maybe all this time, I felt crowded.
And now I have time to breathe.
I share my bed and place
with a boy who I thought was killing me.
Who's appearance was made many nights,
on pieces of paper or typed out words
in misery.
But since we started to repaint these old walls,
and move our clothes into the empty closet,
something has changed.
Maybe not.
Perhaps it was always like this,
but just looked at in a different way.
I didn't really know what to make of us before,
if it was just a waste of time or not...
and I'm glad I didn't second guess it.
Cause I wouldn't be sitting here now,
happy.
I remember someone once saying a few months ago....
that it wasn't worth it, my heart will get broken.
But what do they know?
It happens to the best of us.
And maybe it happened to them
and they are just so cautious.
I think I used to be like that, though.
And it stopped alot of good feelings because I was too busy, feeling hurt.
I wasted so much time.
Do you believe that people could change?
I do.
I really do.
Because I used to be one of those people...
who didn't really care about anything.
I did whatever I wanted to do,
regardless of who was involve.
I think I was terrible.
I'd cheat on whoever I wanted to cheat on,
even if it meant stabbing a good friend in the back.
And even though I don't like to admit it,
I've done it before.
And even now when I look at it,
they weren't really a good friend anyway,
either was I.
And I still don't care.
It's the past.
And this is the part that changes....
Now, I don't want to hurt anyone.
No one at all.
We've all been hurt and we all know how it feels.
And everyone is so quick to pass it along....
But today, instead of all of that,
too all my readers,
do me a favor...
pass a hug or a smile.
It feels really good.
So anyway, back to my story about how I feel great....
When I look in my kitchen,
I see all these beautiful flowers,
that my boy had bought me.
He arrives with them at my work
and as he's about to pull them from behind his back,
I laugh and say,
"what did you do this time?"
Even though all he's doing is making me smile.
I almost feel anxious again, you know,
like when you first start to go out with someone...
and you wait for them because you just can't get them,
off your mind.
And I think about what we'll do in the evening.
Maybe run around the apartment and chase each other,
or sit on the couch and play some guitar.
But no matter what it is,
it doesn't matter.
I know we're spending the evening together.
And everyone else around us,
is almost invincible.
I wrote this piece a while back,
i think it was calleda word for everything
I started to right it, when me and my boy were talking about getting an apartment.
And before I finished it, we decided not to.
And he ended up finishing my piece.
I'm so glad it didn't end up that way.
Of wishing and regreting.
Ryan, I love you.
We finally made this happen.
Everything around me, my surroundings, are the same.
There's just this new casting light showing me the brighter side, perhaps.
And I have to say, it feels great.
I page through this tattered pages
of this book I used to write it.
It's been opened and closed so many fucking times
that the bindings broken.
Nothing is really holding that book together
but a piece of twine wrapped around it
and some memories I never thought I'd be able to live down.
The more I look at it, the more depressed I get.
Page after page I just see anger and sadness,
scribbled out through a pen.
And even after that book was filled,
there's scattered pages that look identical,
or words typed and saved.
They all have something in common,
the tears that were running down my face,
as I was writing those pieces.
I just can't quite seem to figure out why,
nothing was going to promise a better tomorrow.
Or why I never wrote about the happy today.
Just horrid happens in detail,
to read at a later date and relive it again,
once it was done.
I think about how in my mind I would say,
"I just want to go back to 'this time'."
but then I think about it somemore.
I really, I just kinda want to stay where I'm at right now.
So many times I wished I was back in Philadelphia.
Maybe because it's not here.
I thought about how when I was there,
I never really was sad. I never even got angry.
And maybe that's just what I wanted again,
until I realized, I was dead.
I was so fucked up
I had no emotions, no feelings, no nothing.
And when I came back here to live in the attic
I let those four walls suck me in
and make me feel nothing, like I'm so use to feeling.
And it seemed like there were all these problems,
but somehow now, I feel like there is none.
Not because I feel dead again,
perhaps because I feel so alive...
And those so-called problems just feel so amature.
...like I why should I even bother dwelling.
There's so many other more important things.
Things that can make me happy.
Finally I got to break away from behind those walls,
and move into this place
with all this space, that I don't know what to do with.
Maybe all this time, I felt crowded.
And now I have time to breathe.
I share my bed and place
with a boy who I thought was killing me.
Who's appearance was made many nights,
on pieces of paper or typed out words
in misery.
But since we started to repaint these old walls,
and move our clothes into the empty closet,
something has changed.
Maybe not.
Perhaps it was always like this,
but just looked at in a different way.
I didn't really know what to make of us before,
if it was just a waste of time or not...
and I'm glad I didn't second guess it.
Cause I wouldn't be sitting here now,
happy.
I remember someone once saying a few months ago....
that it wasn't worth it, my heart will get broken.
But what do they know?
It happens to the best of us.
And maybe it happened to them
and they are just so cautious.
I think I used to be like that, though.
And it stopped alot of good feelings because I was too busy, feeling hurt.
I wasted so much time.
Do you believe that people could change?
I do.
I really do.
Because I used to be one of those people...
who didn't really care about anything.
I did whatever I wanted to do,
regardless of who was involve.
I think I was terrible.
I'd cheat on whoever I wanted to cheat on,
even if it meant stabbing a good friend in the back.
And even though I don't like to admit it,
I've done it before.
And even now when I look at it,
they weren't really a good friend anyway,
either was I.
And I still don't care.
It's the past.
And this is the part that changes....
Now, I don't want to hurt anyone.
No one at all.
We've all been hurt and we all know how it feels.
And everyone is so quick to pass it along....
But today, instead of all of that,
too all my readers,
do me a favor...
pass a hug or a smile.
It feels really good.
So anyway, back to my story about how I feel great....
When I look in my kitchen,
I see all these beautiful flowers,
that my boy had bought me.
He arrives with them at my work
and as he's about to pull them from behind his back,
I laugh and say,
"what did you do this time?"
Even though all he's doing is making me smile.
I almost feel anxious again, you know,
like when you first start to go out with someone...
and you wait for them because you just can't get them,
off your mind.
And I think about what we'll do in the evening.
Maybe run around the apartment and chase each other,
or sit on the couch and play some guitar.
But no matter what it is,
it doesn't matter.
I know we're spending the evening together.
And everyone else around us,
is almost invincible.
I wrote this piece a while back,
i think it was calleda word for everything
I started to right it, when me and my boy were talking about getting an apartment.
And before I finished it, we decided not to.
And he ended up finishing my piece.
I'm so glad it didn't end up that way.
Of wishing and regreting.
Ryan, I love you.
We finally made this happen.
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