Rantings and ravings. Just think of it as Sunday afternoon with the in-laws, or the eccentric grandmother. Good times had by all. Except me..because I always seem upset in my blog posts..hm.

Friday, December 15, 2006

No Subject. You can't put a title on this.

You and I are like oil and water
And we've been trying, trying trying
Ohhhh, to mix it up.
We've been dancing on a volcano
And we've been crying, crying, crying
Over blackened souls.
Babe, this wouldn't be the first time, it will not be the last time.
There is no parasol that would shelter this weather.
I been smiling with anchors on my shoulders
But I've been dying, dying, dying
Ohh, Ohh, Oh to let them go.
Babe, this wouldn't be the first time, it will not be the last time.
There is no parasol that would shelter this weather.
Babe, this wouldn't be the first time, it will not be the last time.
We were trying to believe that everything would get better.
We've been lying to each other
Hey! Babe! Let's just call it what it is!
Oil and Water!
Oil and Water!
Oil and Water!

Monday, December 04, 2006

Feel better!

Feel better. As if it was a 24-hour bug. A virus that simply needs to run its course. Well, let me tell you something. Bugs bite. They sting. Occasionally they get under your skin. Bugs don't latch onto organs and tear them apart by the strings that bind them. They don't invade your nervous system and induce a panic attack. They don't creep into your thoughts by way of your neurons and turn you into an overcooked vegetable. This bug is not going to go away anytime soon. I'm going to be standing over the toilet retching for quite a while yet. And really, I don't know what I'd do if I got over it. This is one bug I don't want to pass on to someone else.
I'm trying to communicate with this ever-present infection, and it isn't responding. And it's tearing me apart, limb from limb.
I come across sad, melancholic lyrics and constantly try telling the world, without speaking, that I'm broken up inside. But it's going to be a while until I can try to be at peace with this disease. Until then, I'm going to feel useless and bedridden, even on my way to work and while I write this paper.
Because love hurts, but sometimes it's a good hurt and it feels like I'm alive. And some people fall in love and touch the sky while some people fall in love and find quicksand. I thought I hovered somewhere in between, but I swear, I'm still sinking fast.