In order to reinvent yourself you must do one thing, strip yourself of what you used to be; there needs to be space for the new. Say your farewells because you kiss a person that you will not go back to. Not ever. Build up someone different; save yourself by killing yourself; bleed the memories of the old so the new scabs cleanse you of all things tragic.
everything that we thought was true, wasn’t a lie but it was hindered; so it wasn’t entirely the truth and it wasn’t entirely a lie. i remember he told me that the first time we heard the echoes of the bats in the caves, or was it the time we danced until we were numb?i’m sure it happened. he said that we like everyone else in the world were the center of the entire universe just like if you drew a spot on a balloon and blew into it the spot’s position seems like it’s changing but its just expanding. until someone pops the balloon. that would be funny. that’s what he did. then i screamed because those balloons are so so scary just like the bats were, just like the music was. he looked at me the echoes of the universe creeping into the moment but some how the look that i got pushed it way . it as nice. so.nice the weirdest thing is that it didn’t happen.
Like all things, this was the beginning.
He was off to endeavour into the pits of hell. Grabbing his boots just underneath the large pile of mess in his room where he spent most of his time blubbering about how much life sucked for him. In a way, the mess in the room was like the mess in his head, something that never went away; something he had no control over. Slipping on his boots and grabbing his large navy blue coat, he walked towards the door, the light illuminating through the glass. Lost in thought, he began to turn the handle of the door, barely touching the cold steel knob. He opened the door, all that was seen was fire. The world that was once his own was destroyed. He looked up and stared at the cloudless sky, taking each step cautiously not wanting to go near another life form.
He began to pick up pace. Glancing at his watch he could not help but mumble to himself “Ten past two.” Talking to himself had become more and more of a habit.
The worst weeks will come,
More of you will go,
The worst week will hit you
hit you like a punch on a wall
The wall doing much damage
The worst week will cut you open
The same way you ripped the wrapping paper of your christmas present
The paper doing much damage
This worst week is what you will
When you felt nothing
The week will come
make you feel empty
The week will go
Just like you will go eventually
But the week goes instantly
Where as you choose your length to come
One thing that I have realised is that the people I know or even the people I used to know they are indeed apart of what I once was yet what I never want to go back to, because in a way I was never once myself in moments where I zoned out, where I lost myself I stayed oblivious to what was staring at me right in the face. They say the people around you reflect who you are as a person but I disagree the people around you deflect who are. A division in your life. But most would counter that.Once again I asks myself who the fuck am I without those people. I attempt to stay sane in moments like this; I place empathise on the attempt. I try.
This one will not have a date.
I feel this everyday,
so I wrote this everyday.
So I will start my saying how nice it is to be. To be a person, human but less of one everyday although evolving, shaping, losing every part;
More than what I want to be, yet still less than most of what I want. Every less than more…Is more than what is less
So I am more and less an equal same
Losing more of who I am meant to be.
More is equal to less so I am
More than less to be me.