its so easy, the wrongs words uttered, the time people spend apart.
the apathy.
to form them again, or form new ones..
that's the hard part.
Monday, 2 August 2010
Sunday, 1 August 2010
to this and that...
i felt for sure last night
that once we said goodbye
no one else will know these lonely dreams
no one else will know that part of me
i'm still driving away
and i'm sorry everyday
i won't always love, these selfish things
i won't always live...not stopping...
it was my turn to decide
i knew this was our time
no one else will have me, like you do
no one else will have me, only you
you'll sit alone forever
if you wait for the right time
what are you hoping for?
i'm here, i'm now i'm ready
holding on tight
don't give away the end
the one thing that stays mine
amazing still it seems
i'll be 23
i won't always love what, i'll never have
i won't always live in my regrets
you'll sit alone forever
if you wait for the right time
what are you hoping for?
i'm here, i'm now, i'm ready
holding on tight
don't give away the end
the one thing that stays mine
Jimmy Ear World ~ 23
have a good look...
at the end of the day,
is writing so you will be recognised more important?
where thousands will applaud and then go back to their lives,
nothing changed, nothing gained.
or is it writing words that mean something to someone?
words that will break walls, that will heal and mend.
that will be the reason one returns alive.
so i ask you, mirror.
what is more important to you?
Saturday, 31 July 2010
the in betweens...
so many of us live for the moments...
the moments when it all makes sense, the moments when nothing makes sense.
the moments which are like a climax to a story.
the moments which are the most memorable.
have you ever thought of living in between those moments?
to walk in between the line which connects and separates each moment.
to live when it is quietest and most peaceful
knowing that the moment is fleeting, and you will remember them in the in betweens.
so many of us forget that our lives are not defined by the moments
it is defined by the waiting and the hoping
it is defined by your walk on the tight rope, the in betweens
it is defined by that which you most often forget to remember
Friday, 30 July 2010
goodbye...
yeah..
i hope that one day i can tell you how much you inspired me.
i wanted to tell you so many things, and this is the only way i know how.
i'm sorry, for not saying anything, and saying them at the wrong time.
maybe we will talk about it one day.
goodbye.
748.3...
(friend + sea + talk) x food = 748.3 = happy
to you it is a jumble of meaningless numbers.
to me, they are irreplaceble memories.
thanks.
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
the spaces between you and i...
He kissed her goodnight on her cheek - a quiet peck, ripe with meaning and looked at her while she slept, but she turned away to sleep.
He thought wistfully of how she used to stare into his eyes until sleep claimed him, her eyes were the last thing he saw, and the first every morning.
He gave a quiet sigh, and remembered her crooked smile.
He slept on the right side of the bed.
He thought wistfully of how she used to stare into his eyes until sleep claimed him, her eyes were the last thing he saw, and the first every morning.
He kissed her goodnight on her forehead - a light brush on her skin and then he turned away to sleep while she stared at his back.
She thought of how he would have kissed her goodnight on her cheek, how he would stare into her eyes, and she would fall asleep with those frozen features till day came.
He gave a quiet sigh, and remembered her crooked smile.
She gave a crooked smile as she remembered how he would sigh at everything.
He slept on the right side of the bed.
She slept on the left side of the bed.
They were both asleep in the wrong bed
Monday, 26 July 2010
black, white and gray...
there is a difference between doing the correct thing, and doing the right thing.
chances are, 'correct' is a term used by society as normal.
while the right thing, often leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth.
chances are, 'correct' is a term used by society as normal.
while the right thing, often leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth.
Sunday, 25 July 2010
broken shells and blank papers...
your life is like a sheet of paper.
in the beginning, you are pure, clean, white as white, innocent, naive.
as you grow, you accumulate knowledge and experience and begin to fill with writings.
some of us are special and begin to fill up with doodles and drawings, nonsensical scribblings only they understand.
question is, whom do you allow to fill you with both knowledge and experience?
for, like paper, you can eventually erase the bad writing/drawing but it WILL ALWAYS leave a mark, a faint but legible scar.
sometimes, in the process of putting pen to paper, the paper gets torn.
sometimes, in the process of erasing, the paper gets torn.
and you cry at the pain of it all, at the hurt and the fear and you ask why.
like paper, we are all meant to be read.
we each are meant to fill someone else's life with what we have on us.
some of us give the gift of laughter, some of us, the gift of our love, all different and unique in the gifts that we share.
but all of us have a story to share. every tear on our once white facade, every smudge and faint scar, they can help another understand why.
they can help another just by saying that, 'look at me. i have been there. i have hurt, and i have lost. i understand and i empathise. look at me. i am still here. there is hope.'
so, know that even as we hurt, we are not alone. know that, as you cry, someone will be there to catch your precious tears.
know that, in our sorrow there is a greater purpose, a higher meaning, that we each can help another understand, that i am a torn piece of paper, just as you are and if you would let me, we can help each other through it.
'i. am. still. here. there is hope.'
in the beginning, you are pure, clean, white as white, innocent, naive.
as you grow, you accumulate knowledge and experience and begin to fill with writings.
some of us are special and begin to fill up with doodles and drawings, nonsensical scribblings only they understand.
question is, whom do you allow to fill you with both knowledge and experience?
for, like paper, you can eventually erase the bad writing/drawing but it WILL ALWAYS leave a mark, a faint but legible scar.
sometimes, in the process of putting pen to paper, the paper gets torn.
sometimes, in the process of erasing, the paper gets torn.
and you cry at the pain of it all, at the hurt and the fear and you ask why.
like paper, we are all meant to be read.
we each are meant to fill someone else's life with what we have on us.
some of us give the gift of laughter, some of us, the gift of our love, all different and unique in the gifts that we share.
but all of us have a story to share. every tear on our once white facade, every smudge and faint scar, they can help another understand why.
they can help another just by saying that, 'look at me. i have been there. i have hurt, and i have lost. i understand and i empathise. look at me. i am still here. there is hope.'
so, know that even as we hurt, we are not alone. know that, as you cry, someone will be there to catch your precious tears.
know that, in our sorrow there is a greater purpose, a higher meaning, that we each can help another understand, that i am a torn piece of paper, just as you are and if you would let me, we can help each other through it.
'i. am. still. here. there is hope.'
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