Sunday, October 18, 2009

Hearts spilling over.

If i had a song, what would it sound like? I'd predict shrill, nervous, bursting, multi toned, repetitive, with some amazingly sweet, lingering strong, free melodies. It would be timid and broken and it would try to hard, but something would ring out so strong, almost hidden, longing to come forward in the composition.
Sometimes I wished I played piano, or guitar, mostly cello. I love the cello, I love the violin, I don't have the money to learn. My parents never forced me to stick with instruments, I never had the resolve. Sometimes I remember the life i once had, and how did I get here? I feel like I should be exiled, I feel guilty for being human, for being so weak. For not being able to show the good in me, if good is there. I am ashamed of what I have to show the world. I am cowering in my perceived filth and I don't trust anyone to think well of me, but I think they should because I'm contradictory and I stay obvious in my flaws because I feel like if people see how low I am they won't want to bring me further down because I am sensitive and I care and I am irrational.
And all of this is just theory.
I barely have hope. Something in me just can't beat this off. I feel so broken and useless.
So where was childish brevity when I needed it? When did the strength of maturity come to meet this loss in faith? Will it ever? Nothing's perfect, I know that. I just wish I could look into the face of a stranger without feeling afraid. And not fear fumbling from image to image. Because it's useless and irrational and I am so too. Because its a part of me I just want to strangle, rip out, bloody, crucify, tear the veins out of. I just want to be whole again.

This is just all in the background. I've been relatively happier, though I can't stop from tripping on the rags of a memory, letting it become the present from time to time.

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