I'd only end up deleting them after.
It's too much like laying my heart open.
So let the tears fall like rain.
I forgot how much hurt and hatred fills the world.
I'd only end up deleting them after.
It's too much like laying my heart open.
I'd only end up deleting them after.
It's too much like laying my heart open.
I want to write that I haven't felt this crappy in a long time.
I want to write that I know I shouldn't and that I should be thankful for so much.
I want to write how I am a total fool.
I want to write how I am a fool because I make things so blindingly obvious.
I want to write about how it stings.
I want to write I hate that I am jealous.
I want to write that I won't let history repeat itself.
I will write that it's hard for me to understand because it's strange to me.
And I know that that in itself proves hard for you to understand.
I will write that I'm sorry.
I want to write how I feel inadequate, not enough and forgotten.
I want to write that I've never had it easy when it comes to this and I can't help but make comparisons.
I want to write that I always end up doing this to myself, and I blame myself.
I want to keep writing and writing but I have nothing to say,
Words, for the first time today, seem to fail me.
I feel numb, and inadequate, I feel some pain.
When your Grandfathers carried you up the aisle in your little white box,
A tiny white moth flew past me, past your Mum and Dad up the parallel aisle.
My Mum always told me that when you see a small white feather falling it means that an angel is watching.
I saw one yesterday.
I believe in signs.
I believe you were there today little Sam, by your parents' side.
Perhaps in a place we cant see, but linked by these signs.
As I breathed out the Lord's Prayer (because on days like these I find it hard to make a sound) my words played before me from my lips like silver smoke spiralling in the cold Church air.
My tears burned my cheeks against my cold skin, and I wondered if you feel the cold.
I watched your mother cry. My B, my first ever friend; the one who I grew up with from the day I was born. I couldn't make it better this time. I can't.
When I held her by the grave side I realised how much I had missed her, and for a moment we were back at the start, and she was holding me like she used to when I had fallen, or when I was hurt, or crying over something broken.
This time I was soothing her, she had fallen and she was hurting and she had lost something broken.
I was filling her empty arms and I wondered if she was wishing I were you.
I told her I was proud of her, and she apologised for making me cry.
I wanted to tell her I loved her. I found it hard to speak. I couldn't.
I picked two Snowdrops. One, I kissed, and put in your grave, the crisp white matching your tiny coffin.
The other sits on my bedside.
I guess I somehow want them to be connected.
I somehow don't want this to be real, I don't want it to be real that as I am writing this the earth has fallen in on you and you are truly out of reach. You don't deserve to be gone.
When your Daddy carried you out in your little white box, my heart broke and the tears wouldn't stop.
I don't want to talk, I don't want to eat, or sleep.
I want you to have lived longer than your short eight hours so you can bring back your parents' smiles.
You could have brought them so much more love and happiness and joy, you could have done this so effortlessly; mend them, the way I want to but can't. It's too hard for me. I'm not right.
I wish you were able to smile.
Perhaps you are, right now, somewhere as people drink to your name.
Just like somebody read today;
Although you never breathed our air,
Or looked into our eyes,
That doesn't mean you never were;
An angel never dies.
This is for Beccie, Owen, Matte, Jo, Steve, Sarah, The Dunkleys, The Phillips and everyone who loved you.
It's times like these that remind me why I used to pray.
If I could ask one thing
It would be that you stopped blaming me for things that you are inducing yourself.
It's hurting me and making me feel like I'm in the wrong, maybe that's what you want...
It's hurting me and making me feel like I'm in the wrong, maybe that's what you want...
I wrote this when I was on the train, in pencil, in a library book.
Sometimes it takes a physical metaphor to slap you right in the face before you realise something completely.
Today that happened to me, sometime between 16:19 and 16:24.
Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves.
heart (härt)
n.
wear (one's) heart on (one's) sleeve
To show one's feelings clearly and openly by one's behavior.
Mine wasn't so much on my sleeve; it was tied to my wrist.
There's one person who will actually understand this and this is all that matters to me.
This is for him.
I guess it wasn't so much my heart either; it was his, he gave it to me.
This one moment made everything so perfectly clear, clearer than ever and made me feel like I was floating along, just like his shiny heart at my side.
It hit me and I smiled and everything seemed to click into place.
His heart will always be with me, and I wont let it go.
People could tell that I'm his from one look.
He's tied to me, I'm tied to him.
I took his heart away with me and I know that my heart is still with him.
I'm tagged, by this beautiful thing, and everyone could see and I felt so happy and proud and complete and lucky and most of all grateful.
I honestly can't describe it well enough to do the moment justice, it was just one of those beautiful things that will stay with you for a long time.
Probably one of those moments that will only make sense to you.
Words can never quite match a feeling exactly, but I did my best.
I will paint this, then maybe you will see too.
Today that happened to me, sometime between 16:19 and 16:24.
Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves.
heart (härt)
n.
wear (one's) heart on (one's) sleeve
To show one's feelings clearly and openly by one's behavior.
Mine wasn't so much on my sleeve; it was tied to my wrist.
There's one person who will actually understand this and this is all that matters to me.
This is for him.
I guess it wasn't so much my heart either; it was his, he gave it to me.
This one moment made everything so perfectly clear, clearer than ever and made me feel like I was floating along, just like his shiny heart at my side.
It hit me and I smiled and everything seemed to click into place.
His heart will always be with me, and I wont let it go.
People could tell that I'm his from one look.
He's tied to me, I'm tied to him.
I took his heart away with me and I know that my heart is still with him.
I'm tagged, by this beautiful thing, and everyone could see and I felt so happy and proud and complete and lucky and most of all grateful.
I honestly can't describe it well enough to do the moment justice, it was just one of those beautiful things that will stay with you for a long time.
Probably one of those moments that will only make sense to you.
Words can never quite match a feeling exactly, but I did my best.
I will paint this, then maybe you will see too.
16:28 - Begin
We throw our words around like rocks, and treat them like the air we breathe.
When in them all, truth and honesty and life collect.
They are glass, they are gold; fragile and precious.
We treat love like it is graffiti, regard it as the word Chapter.
As if it is a line of a nursery rhyme.
When it is the air we breathe, the glass, the gold and our words.
Truth, honesty, precious and fragile.
Life.
16:40 - end.
They are glass, they are gold; fragile and precious.
We treat love like it is graffiti, regard it as the word Chapter.
As if it is a line of a nursery rhyme.
When it is the air we breathe, the glass, the gold and our words.
Truth, honesty, precious and fragile.
Life.
16:40 - end.
4th February 2008 - Samual Owen
Written February 4th; 9.50 pm
Happy Birthday Baby,
Though you may not see your next.
Welcome to this strange new world,
Although within your chest,
Your heart it beats so weakly,
Will you make the night?
Synthetic breath within your lungs,
Don't go without a fight.
Close nearby, I know the faces,
That watch you as you sleep.
Tears fill my eyes, my heart it aches,
At the thought we might not meet.
Today should be a happy day,
Full of gladness and of joy.
But too well I know, an old dear friend,
Could lose her baby boy.
What world is this; to take a child,
From these kind parents' arms?
How can so many sweetly sleep,
While we hide you from harm?
From the start she looked after me,
A loyal friend and true.
I wish how she protected me,
Could work right now for you.
Although most have not seen you,
Or touched your new born skin,
A part of you lives on in us;
Your family friends, your kin.
Baby boy don't be too scared,
Or cry when you're alone.
For in our hearts and in our minds,
Your presence will live on.
Happy Birthday Baby,
I send my prayers to you.
But if the angels take you now,
I send all my love too.
______
Samual Owen - Born February 4th 2008, to my dear friend B.
Died February 5th 2008.
My love is with you all. Words can't even comprehend.
You should never have had to go through this; and it hurts me from the bottom of my heart that yours has been broken.
Happy Birthday Baby,
Though you may not see your next.
Welcome to this strange new world,
Although within your chest,
Your heart it beats so weakly,
Will you make the night?
Synthetic breath within your lungs,
Don't go without a fight.
Close nearby, I know the faces,
That watch you as you sleep.
Tears fill my eyes, my heart it aches,
At the thought we might not meet.
Today should be a happy day,
Full of gladness and of joy.
But too well I know, an old dear friend,
Could lose her baby boy.
What world is this; to take a child,
From these kind parents' arms?
How can so many sweetly sleep,
While we hide you from harm?
From the start she looked after me,
A loyal friend and true.
I wish how she protected me,
Could work right now for you.
Although most have not seen you,
Or touched your new born skin,
A part of you lives on in us;
Your family friends, your kin.
Baby boy don't be too scared,
Or cry when you're alone.
For in our hearts and in our minds,
Your presence will live on.
Happy Birthday Baby,
I send my prayers to you.
But if the angels take you now,
I send all my love too.
______
Samual Owen - Born February 4th 2008, to my dear friend B.
Died February 5th 2008.
My love is with you all. Words can't even comprehend.
You should never have had to go through this; and it hurts me from the bottom of my heart that yours has been broken.
Handwritten Vs. Typed
"Sitting by candle light,
On a bed that feels empty since you left.
Listening to boys with guitars, broadcasting their sublime stories through my speakers.
They talk of the quiet things, that no one else should know, with such brutal honesty I want to cradle it.
With a pen in my fingers I know the truth too well; It can't be contained.
I know that this isn't what they sing about. It's different.
I know it's not the same, but I also know this is better than any ballad sung by a wasted Romeo.
This is the making, the insulation and lining.
These are our roots.
Houses fall down when they are built on weak foundations, and even if the house does fall down, good foundations always remain.
Imprinted into the bedrock, a mark that withstands the storm. Sitting by candle light, I can still taste the snow.
I can still feel the flakes melting on my lashes, touching my lips where yours have before.
I still feel the sting on my fingertips from the cold.
I realise I miss you.
I realise I'm scared; and I know I still have my guards up. Not just around me, but protecting you too.
So much is at stake, so much responsibility.
When you play with fire it's so easy to get burned.
I hope you realise you've inspired me.
I know sometimes words aren't enough.
I know I have an artist's soul; but words are the colours on my pallet, and I have a writer's heart.
So when I paint this picture of words for you, know that the colours glow.
You warm my fingers when they sting, and no matter what ruin befalls our bricks and mortar, our foundations will last through it all.
Writing by the light of this fire, I hope to myself that what we build is strong."
On a bed that feels empty since you left.
Listening to boys with guitars, broadcasting their sublime stories through my speakers.
They talk of the quiet things, that no one else should know, with such brutal honesty I want to cradle it.
With a pen in my fingers I know the truth too well; It can't be contained.
I know that this isn't what they sing about. It's different.
I know it's not the same, but I also know this is better than any ballad sung by a wasted Romeo.
This is the making, the insulation and lining.
These are our roots.
Houses fall down when they are built on weak foundations, and even if the house does fall down, good foundations always remain.
Imprinted into the bedrock, a mark that withstands the storm. Sitting by candle light, I can still taste the snow.
I can still feel the flakes melting on my lashes, touching my lips where yours have before.
I still feel the sting on my fingertips from the cold.
I realise I miss you.
I realise I'm scared; and I know I still have my guards up. Not just around me, but protecting you too.
So much is at stake, so much responsibility.
When you play with fire it's so easy to get burned.
I hope you realise you've inspired me.
I know sometimes words aren't enough.
I know I have an artist's soul; but words are the colours on my pallet, and I have a writer's heart.
So when I paint this picture of words for you, know that the colours glow.
You warm my fingers when they sting, and no matter what ruin befalls our bricks and mortar, our foundations will last through it all.
Writing by the light of this fire, I hope to myself that what we build is strong."
you are nothing but a smile and nervous laughter spend the evenings in your dark blue cotton sheets and i spent years it seems just wondering through the darkness then the answer came on that late summer breeze and the headlights on the highway could not help me understand whatever it is you need i pray i am with my finger tips i trace on your bare skin all of the things id like to say but can not speak you mean everything and there's not quite words enough to tell you all the things you've become for me
Fireflies Flash
1)
Open the flood gates,
Let the rain pour.
And stand out with my toes in the earth,
Letting it roar.
Feeling no power,
But who says that's bad?
This could be the best I've ever had.
How will I know if I don't open these gates.
So I undo the latch, and fling them out wide.
Wet warmth washes over me, I smile with a sigh.
2)
Fireflies flash, with no power to last.
Hurt stays for longer than the smiles.
Sometimes to save them, you hurt them at the start.
But its not you hurting them, It's saving them from what could hurt.
You care too much to even give it a chance.
Is that possible?
Fireflies flash, and I never want to see you sad.
Open the flood gates,
Let the rain pour.
And stand out with my toes in the earth,
Letting it roar.
Feeling no power,
But who says that's bad?
This could be the best I've ever had.
How will I know if I don't open these gates.
So I undo the latch, and fling them out wide.
Wet warmth washes over me, I smile with a sigh.
2)
Fireflies flash, with no power to last.
Hurt stays for longer than the smiles.
Sometimes to save them, you hurt them at the start.
But its not you hurting them, It's saving them from what could hurt.
You care too much to even give it a chance.
Is that possible?
Fireflies flash, and I never want to see you sad.
Tonight, Amongst Friends,
I will pretend that I am on a beach in the Orange County.
And I will pretend that its warm sand under my feet, rather than the cold ground.
At least I will have my friends, a crate of beer, and a bonfire.
I'm secretly looking forward to pretending to myself.
And wearing lots of woollen clothing.
And I will pretend that its warm sand under my feet, rather than the cold ground.
At least I will have my friends, a crate of beer, and a bonfire.
I'm secretly looking forward to pretending to myself.
And wearing lots of woollen clothing.
Do you remember?
Do you remember when you first learned to read?
Do you remember when things began to come clearly, rather than stuttered and slow?
I don't.
Thinking about you makes me happy.
Am I running away with myself already?
Probably. I just hope this isn't devoid of a happy ending.
This one could be something I'd not want to let go of..
Do you remember when things began to come clearly, rather than stuttered and slow?
I don't.
Thinking about you makes me happy.
Am I running away with myself already?
Probably. I just hope this isn't devoid of a happy ending.
This one could be something I'd not want to let go of..
Ultimately.
Ultimately.
I love that word.
In the end of all this, everything will be fine.
Mine, yours, his, hers and everyone's emotions are up and down, and in and out.
But in the end, it will all work out, and we will die happy.
I think everyone who lives their life out until the natural end will die happy.
And I think you will too.
I think you worry too much, you think each year is a milestone, but I know you'll be here 'til the end, And you know it too.
I really fancy going to the sea.
Or, somewhere. Anywhere. Take me away?
I want to be with friends. And I want to know what to choose; but if I know that I guess I could say "Where's the fun?"
Whats the rush? We've all the time in the world.
Keeping our life lines close, And aiming for top score.
We all play life like it's a game.
But whats the point?
Nobody gets out alive anyway.
GO DO SOMETHING FUN.
RIGHT NOW.
Go out, and do something you'd not usually do.
Stop playing the game and feel alive for the first time.
I love that word.
In the end of all this, everything will be fine.
Mine, yours, his, hers and everyone's emotions are up and down, and in and out.
But in the end, it will all work out, and we will die happy.
I think everyone who lives their life out until the natural end will die happy.
And I think you will too.
I think you worry too much, you think each year is a milestone, but I know you'll be here 'til the end, And you know it too.
I really fancy going to the sea.
Or, somewhere. Anywhere. Take me away?
I want to be with friends. And I want to know what to choose; but if I know that I guess I could say "Where's the fun?"
Whats the rush? We've all the time in the world.
Keeping our life lines close, And aiming for top score.
We all play life like it's a game.
But whats the point?
Nobody gets out alive anyway.
GO DO SOMETHING FUN.
RIGHT NOW.
Go out, and do something you'd not usually do.
Stop playing the game and feel alive for the first time.
Met once before, Now you're a Metaphor.
Knowing you is like skating on shiny ice, I can reflect in you.
You take me to such speeds, And it's so easy to keep going and going.
All the while I'm sliding though, Faster and Faster.
Sometimes out of control.
When I fall you help me up.
Sometimes the ice breaks, and I fall through into this other world.
I feel the icy rush of being without you.
As soon as I’m in, the ice freezes back over.
I'm trapped.
But later you break the ice again, or perhaps I do.
And I set off skating again...
Confusing, Ambiguous, A Surprise.
Contradictory, Irrational, An anomaly.
_____
My dreams are coming back.
I’ve dreamed more in the last 2 nights than I have in months.
I miss dreaming.
They remind myself of parts of me that I’m cut off from now.
It’s strange.
As confusing as you are, And as unhelpful as you can be, You’re the only one I want to talk to about this.
You take me to such speeds, And it's so easy to keep going and going.
All the while I'm sliding though, Faster and Faster.
Sometimes out of control.
When I fall you help me up.
Sometimes the ice breaks, and I fall through into this other world.
I feel the icy rush of being without you.
As soon as I’m in, the ice freezes back over.
I'm trapped.
But later you break the ice again, or perhaps I do.
And I set off skating again...
Confusing, Ambiguous, A Surprise.
Contradictory, Irrational, An anomaly.
_____
My dreams are coming back.
I’ve dreamed more in the last 2 nights than I have in months.
I miss dreaming.
They remind myself of parts of me that I’m cut off from now.
It’s strange.
As confusing as you are, And as unhelpful as you can be, You’re the only one I want to talk to about this.
4 Of Hearts
Whispers of silvery smoke cloud my judgement.
And a hungry emptyness fills my insides.
The taste of indecision; bitter and resentful on my tongue.
Do you think he sits there? The person who decides it all.
With scales, dropping things into each side, equating your destiny.
When words escape you, does he take a grain of sand out?
When he removes that speck of dust, do you forget some small thought that popped into your head?
Are we all puppets, with hidden strings?
"Poor old devil, his minds not what used to be."
Perhaps his scales got neglected; perhaps too much dust fell into them.
Perhaps his marbles rolled away...
What did this man drop into my scales when you fell into my life?
A pack of cards?
Shuffled, and out of order. Irregular.
With a malicious glint he regarded the cards I'd been dealt.
Out with the 4 of hearts, out with the 5.
Taking away suit by suit and leaving me only with the Joker.
Now I'm left, playing 52 card pick up. Unbalanced.
Do you think he sits there? Like a child pulling the legs off a spider.
Or squashing ants with his thumb.
Does he see me through the magnifying glass? Small, sublime.
How long until I feel the burn?
Perhaps this is just part of something bigger.
A layer, encased within something.
Like a russian doll, but continued infinately.
Perhaps in the future I will have a child who squashes ants.
Perhaps when that one ant gets wiped out, JFK gets shot on November 22, 1963.
With each clumsy stamp, a hollocaust wipes out hundreds?
Or perhaps I'm thinking too much.
Perhaps this is it.
And this is me.
And this is my all fault.
And a hungry emptyness fills my insides.
The taste of indecision; bitter and resentful on my tongue.
Do you think he sits there? The person who decides it all.
With scales, dropping things into each side, equating your destiny.
When words escape you, does he take a grain of sand out?
When he removes that speck of dust, do you forget some small thought that popped into your head?
Are we all puppets, with hidden strings?
"Poor old devil, his minds not what used to be."
Perhaps his scales got neglected; perhaps too much dust fell into them.
Perhaps his marbles rolled away...
What did this man drop into my scales when you fell into my life?
A pack of cards?
Shuffled, and out of order. Irregular.
With a malicious glint he regarded the cards I'd been dealt.
Out with the 4 of hearts, out with the 5.
Taking away suit by suit and leaving me only with the Joker.
Now I'm left, playing 52 card pick up. Unbalanced.
Do you think he sits there? Like a child pulling the legs off a spider.
Or squashing ants with his thumb.
Does he see me through the magnifying glass? Small, sublime.
How long until I feel the burn?
Perhaps this is just part of something bigger.
A layer, encased within something.
Like a russian doll, but continued infinately.
Perhaps in the future I will have a child who squashes ants.
Perhaps when that one ant gets wiped out, JFK gets shot on November 22, 1963.
With each clumsy stamp, a hollocaust wipes out hundreds?
Or perhaps I'm thinking too much.
Perhaps this is it.
And this is me.
And this is my all fault.
12 Kisses.
Am I doing this because I want to, Or because I am trying to avoid what I don't want.
It sounds the same, but there's a world of difference.
I could see the signs from the start; but should I doubt the signs?
I counted the x's you left on the messages in my inbox.
I get butterflies when I think of being close to you.
But are they because of excitement, or because I think I'm making a mistake?
It sounds the same, but there's a world of difference.
I could see the signs from the start; but should I doubt the signs?
I counted the x's you left on the messages in my inbox.
I get butterflies when I think of being close to you.
But are they because of excitement, or because I think I'm making a mistake?
19th December 2008: 8:07pm - Twilight
Preface
Its times like these that make me want to be in love.
That make me realise; I was never in love with you.
That make me realise love isn't that easy to come by and that it doesn't just fall into your lap each time you meet someone new.
It's made me understand the logic behind the saying "you'll know when you find the one".
It's made me understand who the one is, and what they are going to stand for. When I find them.
I haven't got the one; I didn't have it in the past, I don't have it in the present, and I can see it in my future for a while.
But I want it. I want to be in love.
I want those glittering moments; that glow like fireflies on a misty evening at dusk.
When everything is glowing russet red and amber, yet its the small details that are illuminated to sharpness by your sparkle. Details like the crinkles around your eyes, and the soft downy hair on your skin, brought to crisp life by your presence.
I want that warmth, that spicy sensation in the core of a person that contracts and rotates and makes your eyes burn and fizz with tears, swelling over, obscuring the beautiful vision.
I want the humming in the ears, blocking out every sound except the soft frequencies of your voice, the buzz or sheer bliss. It's audible if you think of it.
The sensation of floating, the floor falling away, and being left suspended in the dark with only you. Situated in the glycerine space, where time stops.
Your lips on my forehead.
Afterword
I can taste the beauty.
Sometimes I can't stop these waves of emotion, and recognition.
They show me what it could be like, what I could have.
They give me a quick sense of what it would feel like, and also torture me at the same time.
I didn't feel this back then, I don't feel it now.
All I can say, is that with every part of my being;
I hope its my future.
I'm praying its in there somewhere...
Somehow.
Its times like these that make me want to be in love.
That make me realise; I was never in love with you.
That make me realise love isn't that easy to come by and that it doesn't just fall into your lap each time you meet someone new.
It's made me understand the logic behind the saying "you'll know when you find the one".
It's made me understand who the one is, and what they are going to stand for. When I find them.
I haven't got the one; I didn't have it in the past, I don't have it in the present, and I can see it in my future for a while.
But I want it. I want to be in love.
I want those glittering moments; that glow like fireflies on a misty evening at dusk.
When everything is glowing russet red and amber, yet its the small details that are illuminated to sharpness by your sparkle. Details like the crinkles around your eyes, and the soft downy hair on your skin, brought to crisp life by your presence.
I want that warmth, that spicy sensation in the core of a person that contracts and rotates and makes your eyes burn and fizz with tears, swelling over, obscuring the beautiful vision.
I want the humming in the ears, blocking out every sound except the soft frequencies of your voice, the buzz or sheer bliss. It's audible if you think of it.
The sensation of floating, the floor falling away, and being left suspended in the dark with only you. Situated in the glycerine space, where time stops.
Your lips on my forehead.
Afterword
I can taste the beauty.
Sometimes I can't stop these waves of emotion, and recognition.
They show me what it could be like, what I could have.
They give me a quick sense of what it would feel like, and also torture me at the same time.
I didn't feel this back then, I don't feel it now.
All I can say, is that with every part of my being;
I hope its my future.
I'm praying its in there somewhere...
Somehow.
For Those Of You That Dont Understand.
I understand that this may seem like me being selfish, I see that.
Its just right now, I need to put myself first.
There are a few of you who want the best for me, and haven't let this stand in the way of our friendship. So I want to thank you for sticking by me, especially through this rough patch.
There are 3 or 4 of you who are my lifelines at the moment, and I would have never predicted that it would be you that kept me going.
Some of you however, don't seem to appreciate how hard its been for me.
You haven't seen first hand how hard things have hit me lately.
I hoped you would understand, but I think that was too much to ask.
You all just need to do the mature thing and realise that sometimes there are more importantthings than parties and drinking.
If you really cared at all, you would want me to do whats best, and you would want me to get well.
One day, when something hits you like this, and you struggle to get up yourself, you'll understand.
And, I suppose I will be there to help you along.
Its just right now, I need to put myself first.
There are a few of you who want the best for me, and haven't let this stand in the way of our friendship. So I want to thank you for sticking by me, especially through this rough patch.
There are 3 or 4 of you who are my lifelines at the moment, and I would have never predicted that it would be you that kept me going.
Some of you however, don't seem to appreciate how hard its been for me.
You haven't seen first hand how hard things have hit me lately.
I hoped you would understand, but I think that was too much to ask.
You all just need to do the mature thing and realise that sometimes there are more importantthings than parties and drinking.
If you really cared at all, you would want me to do whats best, and you would want me to get well.
One day, when something hits you like this, and you struggle to get up yourself, you'll understand.
And, I suppose I will be there to help you along.
I cried through Chapter 20.
I wonder if you ever think about me.
I still think about you.
That last night, I've never had someone leave and not come back.
I sent you away, And I was right.
But I didn't think it would be so easy for you.
It hurt me. So much.
I kept the tissues.
I kept the roses, though I gave them to someone else I love now.
You never wanted to see me again, Even though you pretended not to know.
You pretended to cry.
You had my things ready in a bag so you never had to come back.
Standing in the cold and the dark, we accidentally kissed goodbye.
Twice.
As I turned my back through the door, you called my name.
I turned around and you told me to keep smiling.
I shut the door, smiled at you, as if I would see you soon.
And as if nothing happened.
For that second we were unchanged whilst we still loved each other.
But you never loved me...
And guess what honey, I was deluded.
I never loved you either.
I still think about you.
That last night, I've never had someone leave and not come back.
I sent you away, And I was right.
But I didn't think it would be so easy for you.
It hurt me. So much.
I kept the tissues.
I kept the roses, though I gave them to someone else I love now.
You never wanted to see me again, Even though you pretended not to know.
You pretended to cry.
You had my things ready in a bag so you never had to come back.
Standing in the cold and the dark, we accidentally kissed goodbye.
Twice.
As I turned my back through the door, you called my name.
I turned around and you told me to keep smiling.
I shut the door, smiled at you, as if I would see you soon.
And as if nothing happened.
For that second we were unchanged whilst we still loved each other.
But you never loved me...
And guess what honey, I was deluded.
I never loved you either.
C'est joli. C'est vrai.
Being away from it all makes everything so much more beautiful.
So much scarier.
But from where I am, and where I've been sent, and where I'm kept, I can see it all.
I can see what means the most to me.
I can see what's beautiful. I can see what needs appreciation.
So here I am trying to express it all.
I miss old friends, I realise how I have let you become old friends.
I miss new friends, and how I let go of the excitement.
I miss my friends. The ones who are there to pick me up.
I realise who you are.
And I realise who I need, who I miss.
Having something taken away from you, even when you think its small and insignificant, makes you realise how LUCKY you are to have it.
And how you should strive to make the most of it.
But when you strive you burn, And finding that medium is the hardest thing.
I tried and I failed.
But I'm not afraid to fall, it means I've climbed up high enough to fall.
I'll climb back again, and this time, I want to do it right.
I miss excitement, and spontaneity.
I miss the chills and the thrills of life.
I miss going out and just not thinking of what I have to do, what I need to do, and just laughing.
I miss ART. True art, true beauty.
I miss trying, and having that drive to find it.
I'm sad that the most beautiful moments are in the past, and I can't see them happening again.
I miss being different, I miss making people smile.
I miss how I used to be, and how I want to be.
I miss wanting to be something.
I resent that I feel so under pressure to succeed that I put myself in danger.
I resent what I've done to myself, I am sad how spoilt I have become.
I wish I could do all the things I try so hard to do.
I wish they weren't so out of reach.
I can't wait to find myself.
I can't wait to grow old with the people that matter.
I'm scared of the future but I anticipate it so much.
I want to do well.
I want to make my life easier for myself.
I want to have fun.
I want to work hard.
I want to be happy.
When I come back from this, and climb back up to the top.
I want to be better, different.
Improved.
I want to be me.
So much scarier.
But from where I am, and where I've been sent, and where I'm kept, I can see it all.
I can see what means the most to me.
I can see what's beautiful. I can see what needs appreciation.
So here I am trying to express it all.
I miss old friends, I realise how I have let you become old friends.
I miss new friends, and how I let go of the excitement.
I miss my friends. The ones who are there to pick me up.
I realise who you are.
And I realise who I need, who I miss.
Having something taken away from you, even when you think its small and insignificant, makes you realise how LUCKY you are to have it.
And how you should strive to make the most of it.
But when you strive you burn, And finding that medium is the hardest thing.
I tried and I failed.
But I'm not afraid to fall, it means I've climbed up high enough to fall.
I'll climb back again, and this time, I want to do it right.
I miss excitement, and spontaneity.
I miss the chills and the thrills of life.
I miss going out and just not thinking of what I have to do, what I need to do, and just laughing.
I miss ART. True art, true beauty.
I miss trying, and having that drive to find it.
I'm sad that the most beautiful moments are in the past, and I can't see them happening again.
I miss being different, I miss making people smile.
I miss how I used to be, and how I want to be.
I miss wanting to be something.
I resent that I feel so under pressure to succeed that I put myself in danger.
I resent what I've done to myself, I am sad how spoilt I have become.
I wish I could do all the things I try so hard to do.
I wish they weren't so out of reach.
I can't wait to find myself.
I can't wait to grow old with the people that matter.
I'm scared of the future but I anticipate it so much.
I want to do well.
I want to make my life easier for myself.
I want to have fun.
I want to work hard.
I want to be happy.
When I come back from this, and climb back up to the top.
I want to be better, different.
Improved.
I want to be me.
Your Voice, Your Face
Still brings me to tears.
I hate this with every part of me.
I'm so torn between all of this.
Make it easy..Tell me you want me?
I can't go on like this much longer.
I hate this with every part of me.
I'm so torn between all of this.
Make it easy..Tell me you want me?
I can't go on like this much longer.
I can't bear to look at you, to talk to you, I hurt just being near you.
But the thought of getting over you hurts just as much.
I don't even want to write about it.
And whenever something this big hits me, I have to write.
I just can't.
I can't stop crying at stupid songs, I can't look at your photograph.
You've put such a hole in my heart and I almost hate you for it.
And at the same time, I want you so so so much.
It'd be so easy to lose myself to you.
For once I can't rely on you to pick me back up.
I can't get rid of this knot in my stomach and I can't get rid of this pain.
I'm sick of living with it, like its something I have to hide and pretend isn't there.
I can't be bothered with anything anymore.
I just want to give up on it all, it's not important.
Everything's a fail, if I fail this.
seeing how much you love her...
...makes my insides hurt.
Why do I constantly want you to accept me?
All along its been you.
There's always been something for you.
Why do I constantly want you to accept me?
All along its been you.
There's always been something for you.
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