I want to pour out a song. Pour out a song mixed with hope and terrific many bittersweet nudges that will make the shards of every single shattering be part of one again.
I want
But I can't
I can't even write properly, knowing that each word I type and each phrase I painfully edit out to present the subtlelest of subtlelest, ( now not so :)) faintest piece of me that ever was
is just plain stupid.
So, I genuinely pray that whoever is just- breaking, rusting, falling off the edge, running, hiding, and drunk on the dark... that you'll know that there are people around that do care. Sounds ornamental, but honestly, it's... a difficult life.
Here and now there are little pockets of sth to be happy for, but the fulfillment that you feel should permeate through you will not make it there without the fight.
I guess everybody's tired. Everybody wonders once in a while whether life is theirs to be taken, for it seems to be just a game, a farce, anything but-
Well, I have no answers for you, and nobody else will have any either. Change... it's gotta come from the spark of self-actualization, a product of churned and spat-out convictions, that sometimes you can't even cling to, out of the little power that you wield.
But this I know. You've gotta to try to move away and towards. Pick yourself up where you think you left off, borrow another's strength even and leave the strained recollection.
I'll be hoping you heal, really. :)