malenky devotchka

Bella Morte
2004-01-09 01:15:02 (UTC)

the journey of a thousand words begins with the first...

it is in the hour of pain, when a migraine bleeds like
spilled ink across white paper at the back of my mind, that
i take such comfort in shadows and silence. when i can
appreciate the beauty of night, in the dark i am safe from
the pain of light, from the melancholy madness of a wretched
pounding inside my head. it is also in these moments of
crucial alone-ness, that i am left to ponder so many things
pushed aside in the hours of waking.
one can't escape oneself. all the things i ignore, all of
the "i'll think about it later"s come back to haunt me in
this semi-solitude. dreams, failings, aspirations, desires,
the whole lot. it gives me time to reevaluate the things i
hold dear, time to examine the otherwise pushed aside idears
that will only linger so long, like a fingerprint at the
back of the mind, another will cover it, and then another,
and soon it will be forgotten in the shady mist of "ifs". if
only for this reason, if there was nothing else my migraines
give me that add to my day, i am okay- secure in this
knowledge that i have an internal weapon to remind me of
what i might forget-
what i want.




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