you just got destroyed again.  you’re head is still intact.  i think it might have just exploded last night.  you couldn’t even feel the rest of your body you know, not even your cold feet.  but the pictures in the back of your thoughts still showed up nice and bright, smashing against the sides of your skull.  what is with the insides of that head of yours, anyway?  but you’re still alive.  still breathing.  still beating.  still seeing.  you’re awake.  you’re not in love, but you just might be.. with everything.  is that even love?  you love love.  you’re not alone.  it’s just another day.  you don’t know much, but these things you know are true.  now get up.

that’s what i woke up thinking to myself this morning.  and no, i don’t usually talk in second person.  i’ve been all out of sorts today.  last night i had the migraine to end all migraines.  i wonder sometimes if my migraines are physical manifestations of what’s going on mentally or emotionally in me.  like maybe trying to reign in all these wild, half processed, tangled thoughts of mine into something sensible is just too much for my head and heart to handle.  i doubt it, but it’s a possibility.  it sure does shut me up for a few days though.  writhing face down in the corner of your bed can shut you up pretty good.

and in the quiet i always see the same things.  funny how such joy and such pain could exist in this very same spot.  we walk away with bigger hearts, but we’ve bruised them all up with each other.  and such truth on our lips, our mouths working so earnestly together, and we still don’t know what we really want to say.  tangled limbs, trying to find our ways around all of this.  none of this makes sense.  and curled up in a little ball, i’ll revisit it all by myself.  my head screaming in agony each time i breathe in.  out.

and summer’s bursting at the seams.  i need those long nights where the sun goes down at 8pm and the windows blow soft air over my uncovered skin.  i need bright colors and loud smiles and soaring hearts.. all running through my veins.

now get up.

needle in the hay//elliot smith

i don’t know why, but every night it seems to be the same story.  it’s eleven o’clock.  i have to work tomorrow.  i’m tired.  but i’m not tired at all.  i want to go to sleep.  but i know if i go through all the motions of getting ready for this activity, i’ll come to the laying down part and that’s just what i’ll do… for the next three hours.  i’ll just lay there.  in the dark; staring at the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling until they eventually lose all their glow.  i’ll go thru entire playlists on my ipod.  maybe i’ll even read a little.  i don’t know why, but every night it seems to be the same story.

tonight, it’s nothing new.  i’ll write some things to pass the time.  maybe some of it will even end up being good.  today i was thinking.  i was thinking about how great it would be to be a bird.  and then i was walking down the alley and i saw this bird literally shoot through the sky like a bullet.  its wings tucked close to it’s sides, it’s head shredding through the air in a speedy flight towards freedom.  and just when it was about to lose momentum, it sprung out it’s wings and shot itself upward and out of sight.  it was a beautiful thing.  i don’t know why, but i’d love to be a bird, if even for a day.

i saw this picture today:

for some reason i’m obsessed with it.  it’s not even the girl.  i don’t know her.  i don’t even see her really.  i see something wild; something i can’t even really put my finger on, and something inside of me wants to be like this.  i think if i could, i’d paint my face different every day.  i suppose, technically, that i could. there’s just that matter of being socially accepted.. though i suppose none of us really knows why we adhere to such rules in the first place.  a ray of gold glitter across my face, black over my eyes, a red stripe across my lips and following the edge of my jaw… it sounds crazy, but it also sounds like the best thing ever.  i don’t know why, but i want to be this picture.

there’s just too much to create, and too little time to do it all.  i want to do everything in the world.  i want to paint with old men in paris from rooftops.  i want to sing in the living rooms of strangers with new friends until my fingers bleed.  i want to tame tigers and i want to swim next to schools of brightly colored fish.  i want to build a tree house with my own two hands, and live in it with bare feet and nothing but the world at my fingertips.  i want to have a pet zebra and i want to take pictures until i can’t see anymore.  i want to hug orphans in africa and i want to laugh with the homeless lady sitting in the shade on stanley boulevard.  i want to fall in love and stay in love.  i want to die with a young heart, and i want to live until my heart explodes.  i don’t know why, but i think i’ve already lived these things, or will, in some form or fashion.

it’s an hour later now.  i’m still tired but not all, all at the same time.  i’m sure i’ll dream of you and wake up knowing nothing’s the same.  but i’ll go to sleep excited, ready for another strange dream to take me somewhere where things exist that i never thought could.

i don’t know why, but everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.  goodnight.

photo by jimi