The sun spins away, but it's really you who are turning.
The clothes, the desks, the innocences all seem smaller,
...but it's really you who are growing.
The sensations of time passing, of seasons changing, of the cycles we follow around and around and around..
Do you feel them?
Every night theres a moon in the sky that makes me think of someone I miss, but it's someone I haven't talked to in months. Every time I hear a certain song, or feel winters chill, or see images that mean only mean something to me, there's a trigger. Sometimes it's a trigger of warmth, a welcome shiverkiss in otherwise cold air.
but sometimes it overwhelms you.
Sometimes, without even feeling it, you retreat from the reality. You back away from the things that seem to bring the hurt. The things you want, but can't have. The things that sparkle, but don't fit. The confusion that leaves you standing between choices, unable to move for fear of upsetting the balance between the paths. It's like ice cubes in coffee, or hot fudge on ice cream. If you could just somehow find a way to have both sides...
But the coffee will melt the water,
and the topping will reduce the sweetness to something ..different.
Being without an answer was like descending a staircase. Like moving into a room underneath the places you choose to live. A place where you can see everything that's going on, but a place that's too far away for you to feel like you can affect any sort of change. It's a strange sensation, like sitting in a desk that's too small, or watching the moon fade away from the night.
You lose track of who is actually the one turning away. You become confused about who doesn't fit what, and how the changes ever occurred.
You lose track.
The clothes, the desks, the innocences all seem smaller,
...but it's really you who are growing.
The sensations of time passing, of seasons changing, of the cycles we follow around and around and around..
Do you feel them?
Every night theres a moon in the sky that makes me think of someone I miss, but it's someone I haven't talked to in months. Every time I hear a certain song, or feel winters chill, or see images that mean only mean something to me, there's a trigger. Sometimes it's a trigger of warmth, a welcome shiverkiss in otherwise cold air.
but sometimes it overwhelms you.
Sometimes, without even feeling it, you retreat from the reality. You back away from the things that seem to bring the hurt. The things you want, but can't have. The things that sparkle, but don't fit. The confusion that leaves you standing between choices, unable to move for fear of upsetting the balance between the paths. It's like ice cubes in coffee, or hot fudge on ice cream. If you could just somehow find a way to have both sides...
But the coffee will melt the water,
and the topping will reduce the sweetness to something ..different.
Being without an answer was like descending a staircase. Like moving into a room underneath the places you choose to live. A place where you can see everything that's going on, but a place that's too far away for you to feel like you can affect any sort of change. It's a strange sensation, like sitting in a desk that's too small, or watching the moon fade away from the night.
You lose track of who is actually the one turning away. You become confused about who doesn't fit what, and how the changes ever occurred.
You lose track.
[Listening to: Basement Jaxx]