| | i'd be amazed if anyone still reads my xanga.... but its more me talking to myself.
i'm falling apart, i'm barely breathing. with a broken heart that's still beating.
The broken light on the freeway left me here alone. I may have lost my way now, but I haven't forgotten my way home. I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing, With a broken heart that's still beating. In the pain there is healing,
In your name, I find meaning.
everytime i sit down to read something i've written it's always about a boy. and right now i have no boy to write about. i feel empty, and angry, and like my lungs are sore on the inside and the air's too cold to breathe. that's not melodramatic at all.... sometimes there's more wrong when nothing is wrong. i want to get lost in the voices of all these boys singing these beautiful broken lovesongs. if i disappeared one day, all that would be left of me are notebooks, stacks of notebooks with scribbles and a handful of short stories and a screenplay, all about my adonises. its funny, the boys i touched the least are the ones i write about the most. after a string of meaningless boys this year, i'd give anything for a boy to be meaningful, as much as it hurts...
if love is what i went through this summer i'm not sure i want it. every time i think of him, it makes me cry. because i can't do it. i can't find a little house and hide.
i have to go out there and get lost, on subways and in foreign cities, i have to fight and bleed and cry and write and laugh with strangers, and create myself, and find someone who's shoulder to cry on, and find love and alll those other myths...
we all want to think we've changed. but at our core, we are still the same, and we always will be. we are fleshy little creatures made up of all those people we never got, all those people that made us cry, all those dark thoughts we like to cover with sugar and time in order to function and move forward. but one false move from the past makes us into that wiggling mess of weakness and we forget all our "growth" and our changes and our strength.
he is my past, my secret that i think no one will bother to understand.
if all those boys are tattoos written in my skin, he's my ribs, my bones that keep my heart and my organs from all the rest of the world, that keeps me all together and in one place.
how could i ever find someone to top that? |
| | Posted 1/12/2008 8:47 PM - 10 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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