When will this pen become the magic paintbrush for beautiful landscapes of thoughts? When will I 'bleed gold' and touch people with the manipulation of the English language? When will they listen to me, when I don't sound like you? When does recycling begin to save the world, when nothing gets to be the same again? When do my questions get answered? The questions that were the whole reason for this, now. These questions, along with the pain that I haven't yet forgotten, and new pain piling on top of the open wounds of the old, wondering what will scar and what will fade. Wondering so many things so much that I feel my eyeballs yearning to turn into my head and look around for the 'off' switch. I used to say I would much rather be deaf than blind but with such painful sights of such happiness I'd almost rather be blind.. I wonder (yes, here we go again) what would burn through my heart and soul with the loss of sight. Even temporary loss sometimes can be a damper. Like about two minutes ago, and the ironic thing being I'm writing this in mental health. This could be completely appropriate physical mental health - good and bad. Loss of sight in a 'relaxation technique' will be more than welcome. However, the marathon of thoughts waiting at the starting line for the gunshot of me letting my guard down is completely UNwelcome and should have a restraining order placed on the entire population of said marathon.
And she said as we get older, we start stepping back and taking a good look at ourselves; and maybe that's my problem. People my age shouldn't see themselves. I need to stop trying to figure myself out and then secretly wanting so badly for someone else to when I can't but being resistant to letting them in.
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