I'm going to create something bigger than myself...
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Loneliness is like a drug.
It makes you crazy with the desire to not be alone. You start your daily hallucinations with hope. Every small smile, every glance from a passer-by feels like a sparkling dinner invitation and you accept with a nod of your head and feel that the bounce in your step becomes lighter.
You’re in a crowd but yet you feel at the edges of the universe, detached and distant from the laughter and warmth that is happening only inches from your face.
People is not the answer. Because she feels that everyone belongs in some kind of world that makes sense to them.
Hers consists of fragile butterflies and doves, flying to the sounds of broken French and violin music.
The collision of two worlds happen rarely. But when it does, it commences with friction and conflict. Then slowly, their outsides peel away to reveal a core that has never been exposed before or have felt the caresses of the wind. On that full moon, She’ll let someone in.
But until then.
She's going back to the stratosphere.
It makes you crazy with the desire to not be alone. You start your daily hallucinations with hope. Every small smile, every glance from a passer-by feels like a sparkling dinner invitation and you accept with a nod of your head and feel that the bounce in your step becomes lighter.
You’re in a crowd but yet you feel at the edges of the universe, detached and distant from the laughter and warmth that is happening only inches from your face.
People is not the answer. Because she feels that everyone belongs in some kind of world that makes sense to them.
Hers consists of fragile butterflies and doves, flying to the sounds of broken French and violin music.
The collision of two worlds happen rarely. But when it does, it commences with friction and conflict. Then slowly, their outsides peel away to reveal a core that has never been exposed before or have felt the caresses of the wind. On that full moon, She’ll let someone in.
But until then.
She's going back to the stratosphere.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
This year she turned 20, completing the first two decades of her life. She's not suppose to be that awkward, uncertain teenager anymore. She should be making her way into the world, confident of her opinions and mature with a steady mind.
Why is it then, she still feels child-like and unaffected by the workings of society.
At night she dreams of fantastical worlds, of talking trees and purple sunsets. Of beautiful birds of prey with wingspans bigger than the stain-glassed windows of any cathedral. Of beautiful kingdoms and flying machines that run on sunlight.
She wants to push them away.
But everytime she listens to music as she walks around he city, they come back to haunt her, twice as apparent. The butterflies dodge themselves between people's heads. Vines shoot from the ground and curl themselves around bus stop signs or creep along the front of office buildings.
Gravity disappears.
She stands on the white zebra crossing in the middle of the city and views the scene above her.
Businessmen float past her trying to keep their ties from flying above their ears. Office cases burst open and documents of every kind fold themselves into paper aeroplanes before launching themselves into the sky. Starbucks coffee cups loose their lids and all kinds of coffee float around like a mass of uncoordinated bubbles. Children laugh because finally things are going their way for once. Politicians, lawyers, accountants, bankers all shout words of panic, carrying faces of disbelief as they float around like helium balloons. But they are drowned out by the millions of voices rising in a crescando around the world.
Tell me....where is she going to fit?
Why is it then, she still feels child-like and unaffected by the workings of society.
At night she dreams of fantastical worlds, of talking trees and purple sunsets. Of beautiful birds of prey with wingspans bigger than the stain-glassed windows of any cathedral. Of beautiful kingdoms and flying machines that run on sunlight.
She wants to push them away.
But everytime she listens to music as she walks around he city, they come back to haunt her, twice as apparent. The butterflies dodge themselves between people's heads. Vines shoot from the ground and curl themselves around bus stop signs or creep along the front of office buildings.
Gravity disappears.
She stands on the white zebra crossing in the middle of the city and views the scene above her.
Businessmen float past her trying to keep their ties from flying above their ears. Office cases burst open and documents of every kind fold themselves into paper aeroplanes before launching themselves into the sky. Starbucks coffee cups loose their lids and all kinds of coffee float around like a mass of uncoordinated bubbles. Children laugh because finally things are going their way for once. Politicians, lawyers, accountants, bankers all shout words of panic, carrying faces of disbelief as they float around like helium balloons. But they are drowned out by the millions of voices rising in a crescando around the world.
Tell me....where is she going to fit?
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