Melody and drums and bass and guitar, and techno sounds and all that makes you a masterpiece. The harmony that makes sense, the riff that’s random but perfect. The combinations that are one in a million, the voices that meld and mix. The notes that aren’t notes and need to be.
The lyrics that make one feel, that bring happiness when you want to be cheered up and bring sadness when you need to cry.
Music: you are perfect, and I will always need you.
Stickers on walls
and dancing in the halls;
the swing swaying the wind.
The walnut tree that’s good for climbing
and the ever so delicious dining;
the garden path waiting to be ran upon.
The trampoline that’s never used
and the sky all shades of blues;
the carpets on old parquet wooden floors.
The crumbling facade and the rose arch;
the hope that I’ll never have to leave.
So few symbols. And somehow I try to make some meaning out of them.
Endless combinations. So many words. And yet it will never be enough.
Some things are just indescribable.
I used to have questions about anything. I looked at the world, and I just wanted to know how it all worked. Its wonders never ended.
Now, I probably don’t care enough to question every single little thing around me, because I was unfortunate enough to get to know the more harsh realities of this world. I learned that everything has nuance, and there is no straightforward answer to anything. There is no single reason why a person acts the way they do,
so it does no good to question it.
She wanted nothing more than to be able to turn back the clock; she wondered when she had earned the right to deserve this.
Wondered why it had to end.
Despite what she said, she would miss it. She would always.
In the end she didn’t want to forget a single moment of it.
She wanted to stay in this time forever, but… she knew that despite what she wanted time would move on without her and if she didn’t catch up she would be left behind in the dust.
Do you ever think about what your story will be?
Will it be important?
Will it be remembered?
Will anything you ever do make any impact?
One can only hope.
“Legacy. What is a legacy?
It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see
I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me”
~Some beautiful words from The World Was Wide Enough, from Hamilton, by Lin-Manuel Miranda (of course, who else)
The event has passed
it should be over
it should be able
to stay in the past
where it belongs.
It can resurrect if it wants to
it can hurt you
make you remember
never let you forget.
she had so many thoughts
that she didn’t understand
she had so many thoughts
that she hated
that she hid away
that nobody was allowed to see