how delightfully terrifying life can be. it's a series of choices and you have to remind yourself over and over again that life is only going to be as good as you make it. i've been stuck in this rut of pessimism for far too long. i woke up this morning with a feeling of unknowingness, i do not know who i have become. i'm ready not to go back to the way i was before, but to get back on the right track, living and enjoying every ounce of what's around me. i've been spending far too much time thinking about what's just out of grasp, beating myself up because i'm not as smart, or as beautiful, but that's just it, there's no reason for me to compare myself to others when no one person is comparable to another. i woke up and looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. my back has been killing me all day, but i can still walk. i can still sing. i have to be thankful for what i can do instead of what i can't.

i know this is completely different than most of my posts, but this is more or less for my own reasons. it's not meant to be beautiful or poetic. it's just the externalization of my current thoughts.

freckled skin tightly wrapping itself over aching bones to frozen fingers and toes, clenched to unclenched. tired eyes holding back a collection of thoughts, unorganized. lips locked lips, locked silence & talking, talking, talking, but never really talking. i long to feel volumes, happiness in misplaced time.

waking up to a startling alarm, to running late, to running, to heavy breathing, to eating rice for every meal, to empty wallets becoming even barer, to typing, typing, typing tedious papers about lackluster topics. walking with hands intertwined, to a cup of tea (maybe two), to kisses & endless laughter, to music resonating within, to heartbeats as a metronome, to skin stretched over & across bones like some sort of canvas. to thinking, thinking, thinking about nothing in particular, to heavy breathing, to tears, to sleep.

do you really?
yes i do.

i want so much to capture the harsh stillness of silence that can only be measured in heartbeats. all you can hear are the crescendos of your breathing and your heart beating out of your chest. i long to hold the way the sunlight bends through the curtains and dances its way across the hardwood floor. if i could, i would keep that look you get in your eyes in my pocket, you know, the look that makes my stomach drop and my heart beat fast. i want to paint my walls with the beauty and distress broken glass causes when it shatters across the floor. each fragment catching a ray of light or an unfortunate shade of red as you carefully tiptoe across your room, regretting the fact that you remained shoeless amidst the inanimate battlefield your broken bottle has created.

i wake up in a blind stare, rubbing my eyes without gaining focus. all i see is the blurry picture of sunlight bending its way in between the mismanaged blinds. the light is scattered across my floor like broken glass, piercing my feet with its coldness. i have goosebumps on my bare skin and i swear i can see my breath as i walk across the hardwood floor. i feel like i'm stranded inside of my head and all i want to do is be back where i was before. i long to be consistent and worthwhile. pry into my mind and try to understand me, i'm sick of trying to understand everyone and everything that doesn't make the least bit of sense and i'm tired of  everything being lackluster, including me. i am thoroughly uninteresting.

shortness of breath