Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for crying out loud, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.
does it make you happy? is it like getting everything you ever wanted all at once? it can’t bring anything more than a temporary high. like the feeling of basking in the sun, the warm rays caressing your skin. sunshine is just as bad as drugs. you know it’s bad, you know you shouldn’t. you should be slathering on some spf30 and hiding in the shade. its making the most of the moment, knowing there will be consequences.i don’t want to focus on the world. i defenitely dont want to choose this over what could be. im not happy here. so i should change. yet before i even try, i know i won’t. which is kind of pathetic. i should just save time and jump now.
The freedom you crave can only be achieved through everlasting sleep. Pray for forgiveness, pray for reprieve. You need to redesign your life, press that imaginary undo button. you thought you had everything, it’s breathtaking when you realise that everything was really nothing. you get what you deserve, and running ten million miles to ten thousand fists wont make anything better. for once. you just wish you hadn’t played the game, because it turns out youre a bad loser.
ever since she was a little girl they told her that one day she’d pay for her mistakes. that she was her own worst enemy. on the outside she would nod. i believe you. but on the inside she would laugh. they knew nothing. its only now as she lays in bed at night and her life is in ruins that she realises. she got what she deserved. she’s paying the price. it’s not poetic, its not something that can be changed. there is no going back. it’s like trying to unring a bell, or unspread butter. what’s done is done. but what hurts the most, is that they were right. she didn’t know what was best. and thats why she cries.
do you wish for more? i like brick walls and japanese lanters. i like lace umbrellas and cobbled sidestreets. i am seeking solace. not love. i like liking things. i dont like loving things at all. i like being able to choose what i love, because i don’t love you. see? because i chose not to. i love the sky and the ground. i love air and i love the sea. because its alive. and i like that. youre alive too. but i dont love you. does that hurt at all?
death is certain. life is given. love is optional. everything is a choice. a choice to live out those mesmerising dreams that stole our time all those years since we knew love existed. she might have been right about you, i dont care. but i won’t let her be right about me. i will not be scared anymore. i love you.
my dress sparkles in the night and often i ride my bike up and down the alleyways when the sun is gone and you with it. in my dress, and i am not alone. not one night have i been alone. but not another soul is with me. i bet you don’t understand. no eyes see, and no ears hear, i will never tell what goes on.but it’s okay. because i can’t. because im gone. and i can see you, but you can’t see me. such is life.
The black in the book the letters on the pages that you memorize. And I am the orange in the overcast of color that you visualize. I am the white in the walls that soak up all the sound when you cannot sleep. And I am the peach in the starfish on the beach that wish the harbor wasn’t quite so deep. If you cut me I suppose I would bleed the colors of the evening stars.