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9/25/2015 – Day Twenty – Eight

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If I don’t write this down, I will forget something. All I want is to remember everything exactly how it happened, how it felt. Not miss any single piece of it. Either way posting feelings in my head and down on paper, I am bound to forget something. I will forget feelings, placement, settings, smells, every little detail that make up moments that I am desperately trying to remember.

It’s hard to explain it to people. To people that didn’t live the life I did. That didn’t follow a band or a piece of music because they loved it. Nobody will understand that. How it felt to stomp your feet, clap your hands, and sing every line from your favorite song out loud for all to hear. You start remembering basement venues in sketchy parts of towns, filled with cigarette smoke. Remembering salutations and how fearless you felt at 17. Night thats went on forever, until the lights came on. I can’t talk to a single soul about it. I can’t ask someone how it felt to meet people or see places or conversations I kept in my head. Every day I want to forget but the melody brings it all back. It’s never how far I’ve come but it’s where I’ve been. How I got this far and why I keep coming back for more.

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Going on airplanes in route to home, brings back memories of things that have happened briefly, but really was just yesterday. You can’t go back, you can only move forward. Yet things that happened so recently tend to come back like a distant memory. You think about everything and everyone. Moments, feelings, and how perfectly they wrap themselves up in a soundtrack of songs I used to love. A different variety of things but as you grow up, your heart forgets, moves on and dies just a little. I don’t remember why I hate the things of my past but yet I can’t help but succumb to the nostalgia of it all. I hated this band, I hated the people, I hated the music, because they brought back with these memories of a person I don’t recognize anymore. I get it. We all have to grow up sometimes. We all have to get jobs, pay bills and grow up from the fucked up kid from yesterday. But can’t we just pretend we are back there? Back to the 18 year olds wearing dark eyeliner and black hoodies. Back to this notion that we can stay 18 forever?

Peter Pan has his Neverland, where he stays childlike forever. Where do I go to be with the feelings of my younger self, with the wisdom of my adult self? I miss that. I can sing loud and along with the best of them. But still I miss that even as we get older we lose track of who we used to be. I don’t want to be 18 forever, but I want the feeling of pretending I want to. If I could take it all back I would. Take back the sounds, the wounds, the life in the memories. How easily melodies become soundtracks pierced together in our lives. How feelings go as season leave and yet we can’t forget them. Was I missing out or always there? The fear of missing something that wasn’t always there. The photographs you take and the feelings trapped inside of them. Am I missing out?

Stay 18 forever, so we can stay like this forever.

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Liar, Liar.

I am attracted to liars. People that stretch the truth farther than Pinochio’s nose ever could go. Their personified existence that stand in the balance of reality and dreaming. Words are more believable than actions, everyone knows that. Oh, how I love the words that spill out of your tongue and out onto the open spaces of air between us. You’re always right, and I am always wrong.

You think I don’t know that everything you say, never matches up to what you mean. That every single conversation you expect me to believe, is just another fabricated idea you wished were true. Because a lie is far too beautiful to be untrue. Lies are more beautiful than the vicious honest truth. I love words more than I love people, because even people let you down. But words? They’re just little letters and sounds that clutter up open spaces.

Will you let me down? Will you let me down this time?

Standing tall on clouds and building castles in the skies. The words you say in the clear cold air becomes the clouds that fog through the city and the streets. People never want to hurt you. People never mean what they say. All they want is for you to believe them and never leave their side. Tell me what I want to hear, tell me all the pretty things I need to believe. Tell me everything and then when I am gone tell me nothing in return.

Everything you say is lies and every day I keep fighting for whats true. Every single day I believe you and every single time I know that it’s not true. But then a light shines down from your clouds, down from beneath your castles, and in that moment I believe in you just a little bit longer.

You’re nothing but a liar. Liar, Liar, every things untrue.

8/8/2015