Wanted: Heart Cartographer
Hey Kids,
Don't stay up all night. Even if it's important. I am very tired, and I know that tomorrow it is only going to be worst. The second day is always worse. And we're going to YORK tomorrow. I will have to be an extra good Ralph and sleep a lot tonight.
Sometimes I don't know where I am anymore. Like there's a map in my head of what my relationships, what my life was going to look like, and what I wanted, and someone spilled water all over it and smeared the ink. Now not only is it impossible to know how to get to where I want to be, I don't even know where that is anymore. I was chatting with this barmaid at the pub the other night. She was really nice, and I had had a few drinks, and I wanted to completely spill my heart out, (so typical of me, right?) but I couldn't burden her with everything. I can't do that to anyone anymore. I just have to go back to enjoying what I am and where I am, and just keep pushing forward. Like the shark, I need to keeping moving forward to survive.
I carve a line into the places I've been, like footsteps back, hoping that this path would lead me home. But you can't go home when you have no home anymore. You can't go home when the locks have been changed, but the real pain is that the fire still burns, as warm and hot as ever.
Seedlings of inspiration nestled into little corners of my mind, they pick at me to produce, to grow and flower the insignificant roses of written art, the thousand teardrops that drop into the ocean, indiscernible from the masses.
I lick my wounds in this paradise of English winter, neverminding the crowing of the corveday, the whispers of the blustery night wind, the foreign mouths spill familiarity on my ears. An empty, desperate longing burns. I can only hope, everyday that I will come closer to you again, ANY of you. Like starvation, it waxes and wanes, but each time it comes it comes heavier, harder to carry. And I have to choose these things, I have to find the place that's worth the most, the place I can actually call home again, in my heart, or in hers.
I am broken teeth, missing their usefulness, aching with exposed pulp cores, nerves that even a breath of wind spins into agony. I am thunder in the night, all sound and fury but no truth, no revelation, no power. I serve only to frighten children in the night, serve only to gum without success at the potential sustenance of love. I am a whirling dervish without beliefs, twirling around a ballroom in complete loss, but no abandon. If I could only let go and spin free of my need, if I could only break out of the dizziness, break out of the low. It is amazing how one can walk the same path that lovers have walked throughout history, and yet still there is no map to guide you, still you feel as if you are the first to feel.
I have made SOME progress on my novel, but not nearly as much as I would have liked. Maybe I will pick a day, like I said I would, to actually set down a lot of words, to actually just churn things out, good or not, at least then I'm moving towards what I want to be, towards what I want to do.
If you're reading this, come take me home.
Until Next Time,
I'm Ktwilight
Don't stay up all night. Even if it's important. I am very tired, and I know that tomorrow it is only going to be worst. The second day is always worse. And we're going to YORK tomorrow. I will have to be an extra good Ralph and sleep a lot tonight.
Sometimes I don't know where I am anymore. Like there's a map in my head of what my relationships, what my life was going to look like, and what I wanted, and someone spilled water all over it and smeared the ink. Now not only is it impossible to know how to get to where I want to be, I don't even know where that is anymore. I was chatting with this barmaid at the pub the other night. She was really nice, and I had had a few drinks, and I wanted to completely spill my heart out, (so typical of me, right?) but I couldn't burden her with everything. I can't do that to anyone anymore. I just have to go back to enjoying what I am and where I am, and just keep pushing forward. Like the shark, I need to keeping moving forward to survive.
I carve a line into the places I've been, like footsteps back, hoping that this path would lead me home. But you can't go home when you have no home anymore. You can't go home when the locks have been changed, but the real pain is that the fire still burns, as warm and hot as ever.
Seedlings of inspiration nestled into little corners of my mind, they pick at me to produce, to grow and flower the insignificant roses of written art, the thousand teardrops that drop into the ocean, indiscernible from the masses.
I lick my wounds in this paradise of English winter, neverminding the crowing of the corveday, the whispers of the blustery night wind, the foreign mouths spill familiarity on my ears. An empty, desperate longing burns. I can only hope, everyday that I will come closer to you again, ANY of you. Like starvation, it waxes and wanes, but each time it comes it comes heavier, harder to carry. And I have to choose these things, I have to find the place that's worth the most, the place I can actually call home again, in my heart, or in hers.
I am broken teeth, missing their usefulness, aching with exposed pulp cores, nerves that even a breath of wind spins into agony. I am thunder in the night, all sound and fury but no truth, no revelation, no power. I serve only to frighten children in the night, serve only to gum without success at the potential sustenance of love. I am a whirling dervish without beliefs, twirling around a ballroom in complete loss, but no abandon. If I could only let go and spin free of my need, if I could only break out of the dizziness, break out of the low. It is amazing how one can walk the same path that lovers have walked throughout history, and yet still there is no map to guide you, still you feel as if you are the first to feel.
I have made SOME progress on my novel, but not nearly as much as I would have liked. Maybe I will pick a day, like I said I would, to actually set down a lot of words, to actually just churn things out, good or not, at least then I'm moving towards what I want to be, towards what I want to do.
If you're reading this, come take me home.
Until Next Time,
I'm Ktwilight