I swore on the grave of all the dreams I had abandoned, I wouldn’t let you get to me. I swore on the sun and I swore on the moon, and I swore on the love that made them chase each other across the heavens- the sadness would never find a home in my ribs again. I promised myself that I would wait for you, I’d wait for as long as I had to because I knew, I knew you were coming and I promised myself I wouldn’t doubt you.
But the sadness is here again now, breaking down my door, and you are not. And I’m left sitting here in resignation, wondering if you ever even really existed, if you weren’t just a figment of my desperation, I’m left sitting here counting down the ticks and tocks of this old dusty clock until the sadness floods in to smother me; I am left sitting here, craving my own end, and thinking ‘God, I should’ve known better than to let a dream wreck me like this. I should’ve known better.’
Please don’t let me fight all my demons,
And please do not try to fight all your demons,
Because neither of us is strong enough to
Survive the fight,
I swear I can’t take anymore
Can’t you see, I’m already
Only a day without you and
It’s breaking my heart.
The wheels have started to turn.
Or rather, the wheels have started to slow down, they’ve started to stop and the clock has started its final countdown.
Everyone can feel it, it’s in the air now.
We’ve run out of time.
We’re all getting caught up in frantic attempts to tie the ends of our own tapestries perfectly, but while doing that, we’re leaving so many other ends untied, frayed, inexplicably knotted.
And I guess that is how it will remain for the rest of forever, reminding us of our choice each morning, coming back to us with the taste of black coffee, familiar and bitter all at once, reminding us of how we chose the world over ourselves, and ourselves over the world together somehow at the same time, how we chose to be selfish.
You see, it isn’t even a choice anymore; we don’t have an option, it’s been forced down upon us by society, and to choose anything else would be nothing but pure foolery right now.
So why is it that I’d still choose this over everything else?
Image taken from here. What a great photography blog!
And I know I only post black and white images with my blog posts usually, and I’m so sorry I just think they’re really pretty.
Black and white brings out beauty in even mundane things, it’s magical.
It’s 2:22 AM, and it’s been an hour since she went to bed, but you’re still up, aren’t you, still sitting in front of that screen, bleary eyed and exhausted, listening to this band she never liked but you’ve fallen in love with?
You scroll through your Instagram feed, head bobbing to the tune, when you come across a post where someone has likened their beloved to both the sun and the moon. It is a beautiful piece of writing, one that makes your heart ache with the wish that it was you who had written something so filled with emotion, but then you stop, and you think about her again.
She cannot be the moon, you think.
No, she is entirely the sun.
The moon waxes, and the moon wanes, you see, and some nights, when the darkness gets too much, it even disappears.
But the sun, my darling?
It’s permanent, and so is she, with her tempers and her flares; the sole point that anchors your universe, providing warmth on a chilly day and thawing your frozen heart.
She’s strawberries, and she is sunshine, and berries and unadulterated laughter and the smell of freshly cut grass.
You’re oranges and lemons, and the melancholy darkness of a crescent moon, when all is quiet, as if the leaves themselves mourn the disappearing of that sliver of silver in the night sky.
As different as night and day, as east and west, but don’t they say, opposites attract?
Image taken from Tumblr.
My God, its almost 3 am and the pills aren’t working again, I’m still awake, scrolling through endless news feeds and its one of those nights where everything is but an infinite circle, the days seem to repeat themselves, and so do the nights, so do I.
I am unable to think of a way to fall asleep, all I can do is feel strangely hollow again, and with it comes the strange knowledge that I’ll be alright no matter what.
It’s peaceful, yes, knowing that, but it isn’t the kind of peace that soothes you, it is an awkward, messy kind of peace that brings with it an awful headache and sets you on edge as if you expect an ambush at any moment, from what, I do not know, but it is a strange, lonely night and I wish I could just fly away or at least be able to sleep, but we don’t always get what we wish for, do we?
We don’t ever get what we wish for, instead we’re left to pine away all our lives for lost dreams and broken hopes, unheard prayers and unanswered phone calls.
Image taken from here.