| I miss the honesty that only the guile of youth could lend. The unabashed declarations, the accurate representations of our tormented emotive state. They call it the teenage angst. The battle scars of the pursuit for romance and the heartwrenching cries of this futile war. Perhaps age does water down the seemingly erratic fluctuations, with our ghosts subdued and our hearts behind a clever guise. I do miss it, though. I miss the wayward dispositions. I miss bawling and spouting with no restraint. I miss the awkward mess i was, while i sit here, composed and level headed, with only smoke and ashes to engulf my soul and a heavy heart that longs for the solace i'll never find again. |
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| why the eagerness to pen these down, do words warrant some form of escape, an outlet perhaps for the sorrow i can't contain, or am i vain? to indulge, in the pits of misery, my concocted tragedy. i know, these words will ridicule my current frame of mind in due time. but the heart never learns, to yearn for the days that are to come, it only dreads each ascending beat.
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| choices, consequences, cruel conviction.
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| feel the moon, it doesn't last.
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| well.. what can i say.
i feel like the past weeks has been an unjustified acceleration that has effectively unwriten the passivity of my past years
where to from here, and how soon is never.
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