| at dances, nobody cares about anything, and its like they would do anything if someone offered it to them, even though they regret it later. and sometimes you just feel like you wouold be happier with just one person, like just one person to hold and have holding you the entire night, instead of tromping around like a floozy. i dont know. i just want that deep connection with someone...yano? :/ i wonder what its like to fall in love. high school relationships are so taken for granted, but on some subconscious level, the reason we keep at them is because we're hoping that maybe this one will last, maybe this one will turn out okay, maybe this will be the one. i love you is thrown around way too much. loving and being in love is too different to be mixed together, yet its still done everyday. do you ever wonder if the person you pass on the street, could've been your best friend in another life? if you know the person youre going to marry? Flirting is supposedly fun, but whatre you really doing? sending signals that could be mistaken, breaking someone's heart? nobody thinks enough about what theyre doing, but then again maybe its because they know that if they truly stop and think, they would hate the person that stares blankly back at them from the mirror. what a horror it is to realize for the first time that your eyes hold no more soul.
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jumble of feelings
unsteady nerves
its hard to handle these thoughts unsure
just a few more days
almost there
its almost hard to believe how much we care
chaotic messes
people we lose
is this the path of life that we choose?
the very last talks
the hidden hearts
trying to avoid anything sharp
trying to speak
tongues still tied
just don't think about the nights we cried.
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she was the kind of person that forced you to think about the things you hid away. your dirty secrets. She confronted you head on, and most people couldn't accept that. she never let you escape without being changed, just a little bit or your entire heart turned over. You couldn't hide anything from her. the moment she caught a trace, she latched onto it, ferreting into your soul until you finally dealt with the problems that you thought you would never have to face again. but she wasn't horrible. she made you think, made you wonder, made you a better person. She taught you to look at the stars, to just sit and be happy, to see the sunlight. she was blunt, painfully so. asking straight out why you were so creepy and why you just wouldnt agree or accept the truth. she'd ask why you did things the way you did, and why you took the long way home. she'd ask you if you really cared, if you really meant what you were saying. and half the time, you didnt. the other half, you had to change to act the way you felt, to be who you were. but you were always changed. she took you to the playground to play on the swings, to grasp a bit of your childhood between your palms as the ground whooshed by you underneath. the chain imprints and the laughter as you fell off the swing flat onto the tanbark. The laughter as you pretended to touch the sky. she was the kind of person that you just couldnt understand, that you couldn't figure out how they worked. not that you didn't try. she was whimsical, moody, but she was loyal. there for you in a heartbeat, breaking away from the norm of your peers. she dyed her hair crazy colors, wore completely different styles of clothes each day. she'd wear a sweater in 80 degrees, and maybe a tank top when it was pouring. she was happy though...but emotional. she was often upset or scared, or even disturbed, but that was just because she cared. she was the kind of person that made you think, and when she finally disappeared, you had to remember her forever.
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The subway is one of my favorite places. A massive stew of everything and everyone. If you're lucky or unlucky enough to be on it during rush hour, it's rare to find a seat. Those that do often get up, offering their seat to the pregnant or elderly, or else avoiding the others' envious glances, their gaze fixed on the many feeet before them instead. There are the high heels housing swollen feet belonging to working ladies, the sany ankles in flipflops of happy but tired beachgo-ers, ready to go home after a day of play. Always moving sneakers belonging to children and flats on someone just out for a troll.
But what of the people themselves? Grandmothers sitting silently holding their totes, weary mothers struggling with restless toddlers. A group of boys just out of school daring each other to run out and touch the wall at the next stop, which is definately not the stop that they should be getting off on. Sleeping girls lean on their boyfriends' shoulder, who stares out the window wondering what the next stop is. There's also the occasional foreigner, especially as you near the bigger cities and stops. As the trees fly past, the cars begin to fill up and the volume increases. Laughter, screaming children, and businessmen arguing hotly on the phone all add to the mix.
But sometimes when your schedule calls for an odd hour train, the atmosphere is different altogether. There's the tired crowd who can't wait to go home at night, or the frantic late-runner who accidentally slept in today. If you sit towards the front, you can stare right down the line, your view only stopping at the last car. The feeling of monotony as you sight flies past 10, 20, seperate yet same car is sometimes overwhelming. You might catch the eye of the cute boy across from you, or smile at the grandpa in the priority seat. More often than not you stare of the window instead. The scenery is forever changing, and your thoughts are only punctuated alternately by quiet conversation or the machine voice announcing the next stop.
Sometimes, I just sit on the subway, taking whichever train going anywhere. It doesn't matter if I'm squished by the entire city population just getting out of work or school of if I'm staring donw the long line of cars. The subway is just another haven to me.
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its never as funny
as you think it is
to suddenly find yourself on the other side.
good memories fly
far far away.
into the land of
unreachable fairytales.
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life is too precious too waste. life is too precious to joke around with, to make fun of, to be taken for granted. its not funny when somebody gets hurt, its not okay to announce the details like this is just another piece of juicy gossip. but still, in our high school society, there are certain people who feel the need to play the role of tabloids. but still.
one huge step towards growing up. one step closer towards death. one more image that ill never be able to erase from my mind. just one more incident that hits us harder. its always gotta be 'someone else', but this time we're the 'someone else'. fake smiles dont work in this case.
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what mask do you pick up
from your treasure trove of lies?
which color paint do you dabble in
to cover the wounds of yesterday?
which smile do you glue on
when you walk through looming doors?
how do you want to be remembered?
by who you were or who you pretended to be
cling onto the ship's mast
or be swept away by the stereotype tidal wave
which face did you choose today?
who did you say you were?
which part of you did you lock away today?
each identity is just as important as the last
so don't throw away your heart
wash away the paint
and lock away your masks.
and ask yourself
"who do i want to be?"
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