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2015-09-02 15:01:26 (UTC)


"Hand Over Mouth, Over and Over" by A Lot Like Birds

[I love these lyrics so much. They're darker than I actually am at the moment, but beautiful anyway. Oh god]

I wish I could, but I can't rest as easy as you.
I never really could anyway.
And thoughts of the future make me worry. Heart, settle down!
This isn't your last day. You'll wake up tomorrow.
This bedroom never gets to see the light of day.
The shades are always drawn completely and it only ever seems to come alive at night.
I took you here to take you from yourself once. And you smiled at me. You smiled shamelessly and often then.
But it wasn't enough.
I read your thoughts like sifting through your cabinets while you were out of the room.
I stole every treasured thought that you had and left you gutted when I could find no more.
You had poems written on the roof of your mouth. And I had scraped them out with the tip of my tongue and spat them onto the floor, where they dried up and blew away.
And the butterflies in your stomach were all pinned to the skin on the inside. And if didn't love you then, I love you now. But it's easy to love something when there's pain in its eyes.

September 2, 2015 Wednesday 3:02 PM

I have the long car ride feelings, right now, sitting on my stationary couch.

I dunno exactly how to explain it, which probably means I still don't quite understand.

It's like happiness, I guess. But not the warm, comfortable content-ness that you carry around all day. This is a feeling you know isn't going to last and it's larger, larger than your body, and kind of suffocating in a way.

Bittersweet, to say the least.

I've never noticed experiencing this outside of the car, out of the scenery (oh! That's a song).

It's strange, being in a car. It feels so safe. Because I'm going somewhere, I'm doing something, even when I'm doing nothing. I don't have to get up or clean or make conversation; it's not the real world, it's a bubble with windows and I could spend my whole life there.

Or at least, I think I could. I've never really tried. I get tired towards the end of road trips, so maybe that's not the truth. Sometimes, I want to be still, the way I am when I'm at home. Or maybe I want to start running. Not to catch up with everyone else, but just for the sake of running itself. The movement. It's different from the way a car drives, though, because... something and nothing, they're occurring at the same time.

Ah, fuck. Words. I'm staring at my dad's sun costume. One of his many projects includes a solar panel company type thing. He wears the costume, sometimes, and I always think he looks like the Jimmy Dean sausage guy. When Alexis saw it, she said the same thing. I was pleased.

Anyway, I get tired, real fast and I want to slow down but the problem with that is no one else seems to be as exhausted as you are. So they all keep going and you're falling behind and you're goals all kind of crumble, dissolve. So in the end, you're just telling yourself you've got to finish. You don't have to do it fast, you just have to do it.

And even that is difficult. I just get so tired, tired of going the same pace as everyone else with no time to stop and sit and think.

That's when I want to get in the car, so I can forget.

Forget and remember, if that makes sense.

Dammit, these fucking words, they're not coming out the way I want them to and I'm worried that when I re-read this, it'll look like a failed poem but that's not what I'm trying to do! I'm trying to...

The way I'm feeling can't be... can't be shown with absolute truth. ???

I'm not! I'm frustrated, now. Not any less happy (even though breathing is a bit of a chore, what with the weight of emotions) but I want to show you and it's so frickin difficult. I can't use the words that were created for this purpose because it's bigger than that. It's a mixture of many things and so... Well, okay. I'll just continue trying.

In the car, everything's okay.

(It's tugging at me. Gently, in a nice way, and I like spiders today. There's one with spindly legs that lives in the space between our window and the screen. A piece of it's web is hanging against the screen and it looks like a mountain range. It's very cool. I admire this spider. I think his name is Jeffrey)

I can think about it all without getting sad in the dangerous way. I still cry sometimes, because of there I things that drifted out of my reach at some point and I miss being able to feel them.

It's alright, the getting sad, as long as I'm in the backseat, staring out the window. Usually, I'm listening to music but I think I tune it out with the thoughts.

I like the blur of trees on the strips of grass between roads. I wonder what lives in there. I like the sky and the sun blinking in between the trees.

It's so weird, having a normal conversation with my mom when I'm like this. That's what I'm doing right now.

I want her to stop talking, but I won't say that because it would hurt her feelings and I love her. Besides, sometimes, it's nice to just hear her going on about nothing at all.

Hmm. Maybe the car feeling came from sunlight and cleanliness.

I went to bed an hour before sunrise and woke up at noon. Still not enough sleep. I made a promise to myself, to go to bed earlier, and broke it just as quick. Funny how three hours passes in a blink.

But anyway. It's coming through the windows, all bright and golden, reflecting off drifting dust particles. It makes me feel very small, in a lovely way.

Before I wrote this, I was thinking. Thinking about golden light, just a little. Not the white glare of the winter. I like that a lot, too. Why do my thoughts feel so rigid right now? I don't like it... Anyway.

I'm just thinking about how, when I was very, very little, the sun was so bright. I don't remember being overwhelmed, but my memories look kind of like over-exposed photos. I wonder if I made them that way by accident, just by thinking so often of the golden light and the tall grass and me, in a dress, wandering through the backyard.

Can children feel overheated? I don't remember having troubles like that. Maybe I didn't have a corporeal form, hahaha.

Later, when I was eleven, there was still light, but when I remember it, it's nearing the horizon instead of high above.

Long shadows and bicycles and friends. We wandered around my neighborhood, quiet and safe and filled with old folks (and dead people. I think they outnumber the rest of us). I remember the park at my old elementary school and sitting on the roof of the shed after we finally figured out how to get up there.

The roof was kind of an "older kids" thing. I remember being really little and seeing all the fifth and sixth graders, sitting on the roof against the brick wall, even though the cement was rough and hot.

I became one of those older kids. On the ground, we sat on the swings and dragged our feet and talked. Ducked through the hole in the fence, a shortcut to the other side of the block. We played manhunt at dusk and I'd walk home in the dark, pretending there were monsters out to get me.

I think I still do that. Not in the way I used to. Sometimes, it's hard to tell.

Maybe I'm a little crazy.

So this is all golden light, maybe. Looking out a car window with the sun flickering and hiding.

My stomach is burning a bit now and I feel like I need to run. Maybe it's the caffeine. It's tugging at me. Reminds me of when I was little and I'd pull on the shirt sleeves of my sister, mom, or dad.

People are sending me messages now. The words are pretty much meaningless but sometimes I prefer that. Ah hell. I should stop writing now, because I have goose-bumps (even though I'm not cold. I'm just nervous, I think... Oh who knows) and if I keep going, my future self will have to endure another couple paragraphs of non-sensical writing.

Sorry, future self. And also, you're welcome, because I have some self-control.

I'm very happy.

I think.

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