Everything around you is so much bigger, this mind frame is unreal. How can we collide as people we barely ever heard of? Every person, man, woman, child, mother, daughter, father, son, brother, sister, cousin, aunt, uncle, student, teacher, lover, enemy we meet and pass all have their own screwy heads wrapped around their own ideals that no one will ever be able to explain, name, or justify. If everyone were honest we'd all be in chaos because we're all so used to lying to everyone around us; we're all liars. Then we hate being lied to. Everyone is after the same goal but not. Everyone wants to be satisfied but all in different ways. Marriage? Its a joke. Apparently. People fabricate lies and falsities to someone they put every ounce of effort into, only to take it all back when they're bored of one another. Everyone is constantly changing. Your lover can always be a mystery. The only people who don't want to be loved are people who don't care. Love is just some silly word people use to explain happiness. Is happiness equivalent to love? maybe, but who's to tell? We're all filled with meaningless word after word into this discombobulation of what is morality and what isn't. You'd think by now we'd eat our conscience just so we could have full bellies.
It isn't a matter of good vs. evil. Its you. You, you, you. You're surrounded by everything you loathe and everything you're looking for all at the same time. What are we looking for? Purpose? Meaning? Existence? Explanation?
What.happens.when.we.die. What if we're all just thrown into the same thing over and over and over and we're all just filled with these questions and theories and beliefs. Our faith is rested inside every crevice of every corner we cut. Is there salvation. No. There's nothing to be saved from. Our bodies crave reason; our bodies crave entertainment. We live, day after day, solely on the belief that whatever shit is going on will eventually get better when we all know that it doesn't. We search for those nights where everything is going the way we want. The ocean, the sunset, the busy streets lined with drugs and acceptance. We want to meet incredible people who help change our lives albeit good or wrong.
We hope and wait for something better to happen, but we fully accept that it might not. This is everybody; this is everything.
It's like that feeling you get when you're on a ferris wheel and the wind is blowing cool through warm air. That person you're with... it's never who you want it be. It's never who I want it to be. I want to bump into a complete stranger who's reeking of beauty. I want to go on a ferris wheel right at sunset with the perfect weather and I want to kiss him on the lips. I want to get off, hold his hand, then go away. I want that one perfect moment, Then I want the pleasure of never knowing them. I don't want to know them then four months later yell at them for something stupid then break up and hate each other. I want that moment with a stranger.
I'm so sick of falling in love.
I want to have the good and then go on with my life.
I can fall in love with an idea.
I don't want the mess after.
What do the Heavens say about us; about me? About you.
We sleep to dream, we dream to sleep, everything is a vicious circle.
Constantly hoping for ashes to turn back into bodies, hoping that one day we might repress everything we hate; everything we regret.
There has got to be away to go back. I'll never give up on that rewind button.
I don't want to be old. I want to be free.
When is enough enough? When is this going to get old? When will we be able to strike an atom? When will we fall into a black hole just so we can get over ourselves and these daily dilemmas of false courtesy and the trickster?
We are all just misguided ghosts.
We are all just howling at the moon's beauty.
We are all wasting everything we touch.
We are all searching.
It's not going to come.
So, we'll sit around the fire telling stories of depression, rejection, addiction, science-fiction.
Our thoughst, our tendencies, our heads, hands, and hearts are all lost within the pages of our favorite books; within the scenes of our favorite movies.
Who else cries themselves to sleep while Finding Nemo is playing in the back ground?
Who else remembers the uncanny pain of seeing your father die. Not even that, but the day after. The day after is always the worst. What do you do the day after someone is gone? It cannot be explained other than pure miserable blankness. Turn on the television after every.single.time. your heart aches. Our hearts are just big calloused scars.
You want to be the girl with the big heart, but the scars and callouses make it impossible.
We are all terrible people.
We are all annoying.
We are all lacking morality.
We are all missing hope.
Why hope anyway?
Everything we do counts for something somewhere...
Just not here.
The clouds cry for our loneliness and misery.
But we all look up at the stars with the smallest hint of hope.
We see the stars as beautiful twinkles of hope.
Maybe they look at us the same way.
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