Another Saturday morning covered in bleach. Hands are scrubbed raw and back is sore. Beauty comes in all different shapes and costs. I feel accomplished; a sensation rare and foreign. It's comforting once in a while. Lately it seems to reside in the chemical concotion created on these Saturday mornings.
This tiny bit of foreshadowing is great, until I'm snatched back to the mundane reality of unstimulating circumstances. Today I plan on cramming everything into about 6-8 hours; projects papers dance parties alike. This rush of need to get dones will push me through. Tomorrow two of my favorite people in this living world are coming; any word you can think of barely compares to the boiling exictement that is building..
It's quite refreshing how I am barely pressing on the keys, and the flow of words pours through them. Only a few times has the backspace been hit.. due to the usual dyslexic typing [as you know occurs more often than not].
So what about death and crying. So what about disappointment and struggle. So what about betrayal and loss. So what about everything that is dragging me down, deeper and deeper into the cave. So what about it? You don't want to read about it, nor hear about it. Hell, I don't want to recognize it.
So I don't.
What is important, who is important, when where why of importance are born through the canal of such demonic trials.
I do not pick. I let them come to me. To prove themselves, itself, theirself.
As far as I'm concerned-right this very second- those who matter, have no idea.
If you're questioning is it me?
Am I a friend?
Well are you?
I can't say if you are or not. I am not a judge nor have the right TO judge anyone but myself.
Can you say the same?
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