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one of those days.it was one of those days when you wake up feeling groggy and rub your hands over your eyes a little too hard so that when you open them everything looks too dark to be a morning, and you blink and blink for a while until you realize it's not just you, and it really is dark, and it takes you a while longer until you know the alarm clock went off early, and the whole world is still asleep, and at that moment, you feel like you're the only one in the house that has an awareness of reality right now.
and sometimes it's when you listen to pop love songs while writing a business letter, and accidentally end up writing meaningless lyrics instead of meaningless thus-es, and therefore-s and other words that no one really ever says.
and when you sit back and remember how ten years earlier, life used to center around school and friends and everything was so easy and carefree and how now you finally know how complicated life can get, and then you look out the window and see a skinny bird feed a sk
dear dreams,dear dreams,
i remember you being slightly bigger, way back when.
much, much bigger. like, the size of a flying building times an airplane, or the power to control the weather, and be a famous singer and dancer and an awesome kindergarten teacher, all at the same time. or something.
looking back, it seems as though, all the time that i spent growing, you spent shrinking. and your decreasing pattern was probably not linear.
the first things that i think changed you, were the things that i watched and read over and over, and then you became love songs and poems and stories, and i became a character in a novel.
you were still pretty big back then. just, a different colour, maybe. i can't really be sure. my memory is not too good, but. i'm sure you were still pretty big. maybe.
so. then. how did you become so small?
ah. of course. the inevitable. well, maybe not "inevitable" since some do seem to be able to get away without being too affected by It, but most don't, and i'm one of the most,
forever in a nutshell.forever is
the moment when today turns into tomorrow
and tomorrow turns into today
going backward and forward
in circles that grow
is the continuum hypothesis
where infinite sets can have different sizes
all too great to contain within a single mind
like the line between insanity and
it is bigger than the biggest imagination of the most imaginative child
and smaller than the smallest mind of the most small-minded man
it is anything divided by zero
and a ribbon in the shape of an eight
it is the lie or promise behind true love and
the faith or wish between heaven and hell
and an illusion that makes it seem as though
things can actually last
it is as unreal as
always and never and infinite and forty-two
and as real as
the day after sunday, and the day before monday
is something no mind can see hear or know
and the only truth that's worth it, is this, to
forever is (everything and) nothing, and
nothing (and everything)
things i wanted to write abouti wanted to write about
running out of oxygen, and being afraid
of how much it hurts to jump off from
the edge of a cliff, and not knowing
at all how far the ground was, or when you would ever land.
i wanted to write about
oceans, and drowning, and falling and crashing,
and the way you said i love you and
the time i really believed you and the times
i thought i didn't love you back and the first time when
i honestly realized admitted that i truly
madly deeply did and that i would never ever stop and i
sat down in a corner, pulled my hat over my eyes and
during the bus ride on the way home.
the time i was afraid that i could never ever
learn to fly because, i was too afraid of the crash,
too aware of the parachute.
but then i remembered
that falling is just flying without wings.
(and even if the end is a nightmare,
as long as i didn't wake up yet,
you were sort of a dream come true.)
i wanted to write about
intoxication, and damaged pieces of juvenile
i'm scared.please (-and i)
please understand that the last time i remember being completely carefree about quickened heartbeats and blushed cheeks were the days when i did quizzes on blogthings for entertainment and rushed through my math homework so i could go on the computer as early as possible. those were the days of red scribbles on grid paper before i lost touch with things and then the paper turned into pink and white sticky notes promoting breast cancer awareness with scribbles made from pencils or maybe blue pen i
don't forget i gave you something special twice. and i don't know if you know this clearly but you ripped it apart once twice bit by bit by bit and threw it away and i took it back. i took back all the pieces and super glue-gun'd them together and hid it from you and locked it and hid the key under the mat and taped the mat to the floor and camouflaged it with words that were the same colour as everything i said before but they didn't come from the same place beca
i like owl city and firefliesi like owl city and fireflies
you like purple and orange
- you like rainbows too
but i don't see you that way
i hate the idea of words meaning different things to everyone
when they think whatever they think is right and
i am naive
and love the way a place can be alive and never moving
at the same time
or sometimes, it's burning - but not, really - only
it's uncomfortable, and feels like going too fast
and going nowhere, and stuck in a corner
with someone who you don't-like and like,
or maybe a cactus. with flowers.
and you can't stand it, but you keep it on a leash
and closed, and isolated, and i didn't know
but i figured out why:
it's like fearing to take out a knife after
you're stabbed, because, just in case
you faint at the sight of blood
and what if you never gain consciousness. but,
when you think
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More