Love will tear us apart again.

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The World Is My Lover

Sand, concrete, oh and the rain and the thunder.
Tampa is the lightning capital of the world.
Nerd kids running around, the video games won't work when the storms are messing with electricity and the German girl ran outside.
I like to think it can sweep me away, fill my lungs and make them explode.
The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in? In your mouth, in your heart, in your soul?
I do feel like I belong and I don't want to leave, but I am still, in some odd way, glad that I will. Constant movement.
It saves me all the time worrying about phobias and anxiety and that scary thing dependence.
Dependence makes me rot like a flower, ripped out and stored in a pretty vase.
It kills my spirit with the fear of losing what I need.
Therefore I prefer not to need the inconsistant.
The sand and the concrete, oh and the rain and the thunder.
Those never cease to touch me.
6.8.06 10:30


Searching For Meanings And Such

The one thing that people ought to keep in mind more often is that the world isn't made for them.
It rotates and regenerates simply for its own sake, so why would you think it should assign a place for you?
The world owes you nothing.
It is your choice whether or not you want to be grateful for what it gives.
I am.
For both the beauty and the destruction that is.
It keeps me going and striving to find a way to make a difference.
It keeps me wanting.
9.8.06 16:03


Power Outage

My brain has turned itself off, so that I happen to lack the amount of creativity and activity that is needed for articulating my thoughts - and most importantly, I lack thoughts to be articulated.
I run on autopilot.
19.8.06 12:00





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