I'm change-able and weak and moody. I'm depressed.
Not even vacations to beautiful places fixes this.
I'm looking through the lense of clouded cameras so everything I see is dark.
I want you to come save me. I want you to be here all day every day attending to my every whim. I want to be your only job, your only task, your only devotion.
I want you to give up working and give up yourself so I can have you. Have you when I shouldn't have you.
I'm feeling selfish (obviously) and I'm feeling melancholy (temporarily).
I don't really want these things. I don't want you to do these things. I just want to ask. And I want you to say yes.
And then we can go back to our normal everyday lives.
I want everyday to be spent in light. I want everyday to be worthy of film. I want to pull this polaroid apart and be left with some beautiful relic of what real life is.
I'm being indulgent of my emotional demands. I want to be sad so I allow myself to be sad. I feel a ringing emptiness within my chest and I allow myself to stop and listen.
The rest of my life lays ahead of me and at the same time: the rest of my life lays behind me.
I want to create somthing. I want something tangible from the work I've done. I want to stop working in zeroes and ones and in lost papers and files. I want to step away from the life I have created to take clay into my hands.
I want to muddy my hands. I want to push and pull with my fingers and I want to sculpt something. Something new. Something different. I want to sculpt a life that isn't like this one.
I used to think that every day I had the ability to change my life. That every day had that much power.
It does not. I am unwillingly tied to a past made of concrete: it cannot be changed.
All I can think and say is: I wish... I wish... I wish... gasping for air, drowning. My last words, my last screams, my last utterances and cries:
I wish
I wish
I wish.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Don't Look Back
Dreams of you are the bane of my existance.
I wish I could recollect more of what it was about.
Because the only thing that I remember is what it felt like to have loved you.
I wish I could recollect more of what it was about.
Because the only thing that I remember is what it felt like to have loved you.