Await Rescue
Somewhere between a shell and a ghost, I wait. I sit quietly without any sign of physical struggle for an aeroplane to come and take me away. I've made too many bad decisions in my life to not afford a ticket; no stops to awakening. One way to escape. Give me unharnessed strength and an ice cold conscious. Give me complete lack of empathy.
I want everyone to sit down for a moment and think about how many times in their lives they've so stupidly felt sorry for themselves. We're all record breakers here, yes? In our adolescence and teenage depravity, we've grown accustomed to feeling slapped in the face and playing the victim. I'm sick of laying the blame on someone else; isn't it about time we all face the facts and take responsibility for our imperfections? We should be able to let go of our hate of it, and embrace the beauty within the discord. We're so focused on saving ourselves that we've never even considered what it would be like to be destroyed. We'll never stop fighting. We'll only stop fighting when we collapse against the grain - ignorant, and frustrated because of it. Aren't you just sick of fighting?
I look at so many people that I wish I knew; I wish I knew what they were thinking behind their seemingly simple routines and daily existences. I know that there is something deeper behind their exhausted eyes and busy schedules; it is rare that they ever escape from their self-built prisons and let their true being out. Do I know you? Do I know of you - something beyond our petty arguments, shallow opinions, high school naivete, 8:00 meetings, and 10:00 deadlines? I'd die for the opportunity to. I'd die for someone to find a key to release me from the same prison. An oil-painted portrait in a safe somewhere - under lock and key - cherished. Unable to learn and feel; touch and absorb every aspect of being.
If you know what you're doing here, or have any inkling into what you think your life should 'be' - please tell me. Leave a comment back at my LiveJournal, e-mail me, write a letter - whatever. Give me a phone call under midnight stars - give me moonlit confessions and walks without destinations - give me something through the static. I'm genuinely interested in what each of you has to say. I'm curious to see how lucky you are; how beautiful you are. As for myself, I'll tell you when I grow up. Until then, I'll keeping caring about the last step I've made. I'll keep walking backwards just to see the past I've grown so comfortable with; I will never move forward again. I'll succumb to idiocy and pointlessness, because we all have to have something, right?
Somewhere between forgotten and searching, I wait. I sit without any sign of shedding a single tear; losing my dignity; finding what haunts me. I'm waiting for that aeroplane to come take us away - please, come take us away. I sit and await rescue. Give me endless opportunity. Give me indefinable hope.
I want everyone to sit down for a moment and think about how many times in their lives they've so stupidly felt sorry for themselves. We're all record breakers here, yes? In our adolescence and teenage depravity, we've grown accustomed to feeling slapped in the face and playing the victim. I'm sick of laying the blame on someone else; isn't it about time we all face the facts and take responsibility for our imperfections? We should be able to let go of our hate of it, and embrace the beauty within the discord. We're so focused on saving ourselves that we've never even considered what it would be like to be destroyed. We'll never stop fighting. We'll only stop fighting when we collapse against the grain - ignorant, and frustrated because of it. Aren't you just sick of fighting?
I look at so many people that I wish I knew; I wish I knew what they were thinking behind their seemingly simple routines and daily existences. I know that there is something deeper behind their exhausted eyes and busy schedules; it is rare that they ever escape from their self-built prisons and let their true being out. Do I know you? Do I know of you - something beyond our petty arguments, shallow opinions, high school naivete, 8:00 meetings, and 10:00 deadlines? I'd die for the opportunity to. I'd die for someone to find a key to release me from the same prison. An oil-painted portrait in a safe somewhere - under lock and key - cherished. Unable to learn and feel; touch and absorb every aspect of being.
If you know what you're doing here, or have any inkling into what you think your life should 'be' - please tell me. Leave a comment back at my LiveJournal, e-mail me, write a letter - whatever. Give me a phone call under midnight stars - give me moonlit confessions and walks without destinations - give me something through the static. I'm genuinely interested in what each of you has to say. I'm curious to see how lucky you are; how beautiful you are. As for myself, I'll tell you when I grow up. Until then, I'll keeping caring about the last step I've made. I'll keep walking backwards just to see the past I've grown so comfortable with; I will never move forward again. I'll succumb to idiocy and pointlessness, because we all have to have something, right?
Somewhere between forgotten and searching, I wait. I sit without any sign of shedding a single tear; losing my dignity; finding what haunts me. I'm waiting for that aeroplane to come take us away - please, come take us away. I sit and await rescue. Give me endless opportunity. Give me indefinable hope.
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