My Beautiful Rescue.

I've been jumping from the tops of buildings.
For the thrill of the fall.
Ignoring sound advice.
And any thought of consequence.
My bones are shattered.
My pride is shattered.
And in the midst of this self-inflicted pain.
I can see my beautiful rescue.

i want someone. someone who is not afraid to hold my hand, and whisper my name at 3 in the morning. someone who loves me, and loves who am becoming. someone who i can call four or five times in one night, just to hear the sound of their voice. someone who knows i am not perfect, that I'm not amazing. just me. and they could still be okay with that. someone who is willing to let me be a part of their life, and do the same in mine. She is out there somewhere. I hope.

I'm falling more in love.
With every single word I withhold.
I'm falling more in love.
With every single word you say.
I'm falling head-over-heels for you.

The world as you know it.

We are born, we live, we mate, and we die. I've never really given much thought to the whole process. if that's all there is to this, then is there a point to even trying? people judge us everyday for the way we look, talk, smell, etc. are we born for nothing more than 80 years of scrutiny, and 15 minutes of procreation followed by a carbon copy of yourself? the lifestyle we have, tells us how t eat, how to drink, how to think. men in suits encourage us to get a job that we don't want, to buy shit we don't need. "Friends" are just the illusion of importance, given to you by someone who, deep down, could not really care less about you and the way you feel, think or act. as long as you suit the image they want for themselves, its all irrelevant (on a brighter note, i seem to have found an exception to the rule).


In the end we are supposed to have divine salvation. heh. it would'nt have to be THAT great to still be a whole lot better than this place. when shit hits the fan, the only person you can really rely on is yourself. not the smirking shadows surrounding you. not the people you once called mum, and dad. not thos people that said they would always be there for you, then left without a word. and not the people who said they would spend the rest of their lives with you. it's all irrelevant, in the end. And the beginning too, it just takes people longer to figure it out. being a cynic means being safe, in todays society. not trusting anyone, means you get let down a whole lot less.

So why even bother?

The way things are.

Do you remember that moment in the morning, when you are neither awake nor asleep?
when you are still a part of your dream, but detached from the world around you?
this is the state of my existence. nothing seems real. everything runs with garish colors, and fuzzes at the edges. everything is right in front of me, yet i will never hold it. Sleep deprivation does that to you. the line between dreams and reality is blurred, and the worlds overflow and collide. being awake, and being asleep join, and there is just time. there is a numbness that pervades my world, and keeps me from feeling the full extent of my surroundings. divorce, unsure ex-girlfriends, none of it matters. I'm finding it hard to care about much at all, myself, let alone someone else.

more as it develops.