inreaction

life is but a scale we vacilate upon–struggling to find meaning upon–finding balance.

if anything outweighs another, the consequences could bring discord. and discord is, after all, synonymous with unbalance. but this is a heavily consequential statement, isn’t it?

doesn’t it mean that pleasure can’t outweigh pain? that love can’t suprass hate? what is the ultimate ending in a journey full of equal beginnings?

does finding that balance mean that every happy moment is really just a moment that will breed sadness at a later time? and how does one find balance when life itself is met with something as unequally long as death?

i know not the answers but the questions leave me questioning my tendency to answer to this balance beam view of life. i know that this view leads me viewing life through this ridiculously narrow form that seems so easy to fall from. and yet i don’t even know when i’m lying.

i hate to be so doubtful, but the line between truth and unisght is only about as thick as the space between these words, while the scope of our impulses are larger than all the encyclopedia volumes that you never could check out.

life is like a cd that continually skips–scratched in its truest form. but lying is dangerously shiny and reflective–seemingly smooth but simply sinful. and i’m not speaking of lying in the sense that you lie about where you are or where you left your wallet, but lying in the lies you don’t know you’re uttering.

the lies of perception that cloud reality beyond the mangnanimity of our understandings. the possible lies of adoration, the possible lies of love and of hate–of jealousy and adversity.

but such an image of life leaves leaves no room for fate, does it? is fate merely a prodcut of these furtive distinguishing efforts–not the stimulus for our paths but the dirt we collect while on them?

it seems that i make every decision. but how many decisions are we unaware of? what is fate and free-will? it’s fate and awareness. there’s room for the latter in the former–it’s possible to accept a formerly destined “fate” with awareness.

so here we are, in a circle of arrogance, ignorance, and fakeness–begging unknowingly for questions and knowing that the answers are as unbeknowest to us as to those who pose them.

alas, what is the purpose? where is the mission statement? there is none. our purpose is to glorify mankind–no matter whose image it was cast in.l but this glory comes from the gore that ensues the casting-off of humanity in the forms that bury your conscience.

there is no value in human characteristics such as those that need not curiousity and drive. for from these two–all else can be created.

from curiousity spins diligence and thought, and it’s thought that, in the end, murders ignorance and creates intellect. and i don’t mean intellect in the sense that you will be smart. intelligence is not valuable without intellect and curiousity.

from drive spurns all the enzymes that make all possible. look for the one who has drive and curiousity.

as for now i’m growing out of awareness and fading into a blissfully, arrogantly, ignorant sleep. it’s called life, and i may have a day or seventy years until i get there, but let us live aware for the moment is but a tangible you cannot grasp.

dashboard confessional – i am missing

Sharp disaster in a fresh new coma
Was it worth it when it was over
Proving yourself right
You’d make the biggest noise
Well I lock my hands behind my head
I’d cover my heart and hit the deck
I’d brace myself for the impact if I were you

(It’s a long way) is there anything
(For an answer) worth looking for
(Is there any news) worth loving for
(Is there any word) worth lying for
(Is there trauma) is there anything
(Or a struggle) worth waiting for
(Am I missing) worth living for
(Was the body found) worth dying for

(It’s a long way) is there anything
(For an answer) worth looking for
(Is there any news) worth loving for
(Is there any word) worth lying for
(Is there trauma) is there anything
(Or a struggle) worth waiting for
(Am I missing) worth living for
(Was the body found) worth dying for

Sharp disaster in a fresh new coma
Was it worth it when it was over
Proving yourself right
You’d make the biggest noise
Well I’d lock my hands behind my head
I’d cover my heart and hit the deck
I’d brace myself for the impact if I were you

(It’s a long way) is there anything
(For an answer) worth looking for
(Is there any news) worth loving for
(Is there any word) worth lying for
(Is there trauma) is there anything
(Or a struggle) worth waiting for
(Am I missing) worth living for
(Was the body found) worth dying for

(It’s a long way) is there anything
(For an answer) worth looking for
(Is there any news) worth loving for
(Is there any word) worth lying for
(Is there trauma) is there anything
(Or a struggle) worth waiting for
(Am I missing) worth living for
(Was the body found) worth dying for

(It’s a long way) is there anything
(For an answer) worth looking for
(Is there any news) worth loving for
(Is there any word) worth lying for
(Is there trauma) is there anything
(Or a struggle) worth waiting for
(Am I missing) worth living for
(Was the body found) worth dying for

(It’s a long way) is there anything
(For an answer) worth looking for
(Is there any news) worth loving for
(Is there any word) worth lying for
(Is there trauma) is there anything
(Or a struggle) worth waiting for
(Am I missing) worth living for
(Was the body found) worth dying for

comment?

i haven’t written for awhile. it seems as the story has flown from the page to one’s eyes–why write when life has just the right amount of perfection?

but that’s not fair. it’s not perfection. it’s not without it’s faults. it’s not easy to choke on words, to have them taken by your breath. it’s not easy to flounder for a bit of your sile. it’s tragic to feel beauty and know the beautiful. it’s almost as if (if similies could make you smile) this life is similar to a hospital of happiness.

i’m suffering from the life threatening disease of your comfort, and that which i find in you. i’m loving falling on the burden of cliche and i lack the creative nature, to find the phrases–funny, i’m finally falling…out of logic.

too many i’s and not enough you’s, but it’s your eyes that give me sight–the light into this tunnel that i never want to leave. unscipted and ugly, i know this is harsher than the sugar coated venom many of you find so attractive. but ugly is relative to the mind blowing beauty of every moment we strive for.

love is sacrifice. how much time will we sacrifice before telling ourselves we love each other? it doesn’t matter. you know that you may not know what love is and i’ve grown scared of meaning, burned by the coolness in which love is often forged around us. give love a thought but don’t plague your thought with too much thinking, let it think…emotionally.

that may be a contradiction but it’s not. paint an image with your eyes, and you will see what you want. paint with your mind, and you may never know what you are looking for. paint with your heart, and you never know what you may think.

all this prose is practical but i paint as i wish, for i can see that i already see what i want, have more than i could ever look for. and i don’t think as much as know that there’s a story taken from this ink and given to your eyes, read to me by mine, leaving me with enough light to keep the night from keeping you away. we can’t rewind but fast-forwarding would be even more foolish. i try to bury the obvious in rich context because i’ve convinced myself that anything obvious lacks richness. but that theory is as faulted as our fears. i’m going to live not for the moment but for that light i can never put out, the light that burns all doubt into golden and not gilded truth.

i know i say don’t say sorry but i’m sorry that i know that i don’t leave you with anything worth repeating.

please bear in mind that this scrawling script is in the all and in the nothing, simnply something i swear and send into everything i hold doear. please, my dear, beaer this in thy conscience:

there is but your presence that makes the darkest of corners bright with the gifts of the present.

and while the pages in this pamphlet are pathetically lacking in number to properly record your allure, know this:

while your beauty is unlike anything i could have known, it grows in force by the letter. and while this is most true, know this: your beauty is is that which takes these words, this coherence from me, your beauty is not your form but your form and all its convictions and its purity of beauty; everything that is beautiful is but gray without your light to show the most joyful and deep colors.

’tis your presence that does color in much, and your painting i see in much more than anything i’ve ever seen before.

thank you.

ahhhhhh i never want to stop writing. 21 days.

be aware that current events have caused an awareness that some eventful emotions can’t be currently conveyed in anything that bleeds from anything as inanimate as a pen.

i know my place in all the unknowns of the beautiful world. don’t think that my praises and appreciations don’t know that i am but the blink of mother nature’s sight.

but. that doesn’t mean that i shouldn’t live that blink, strive to shed some light before i’m shut off into the dark. and it doesn’t mean i’ve struggled or that i should stive to understand existentialism–i’m more concerned with what i know to exist.

or…what doesn’t exist.

what doesn’t exist? words. words for the blinding dark and defeaning silence and jarring grace that created the most peaceful of moments. words for the comfort, words for the joy, words for the lyrics written about my life.

what doesn’t exist? everything i thought would follow trust, everything i feared would happen, everything i fear.

but come what may, i am comfortably confident in certain truths. truth is, after all, the common thread of all percieved happiness. truth is what we mistake for arrogance. truth is what we love to hate. but “to hate” is not present at present.

i’m loving having nothing to write because i’ve already said more than i may ever copmletely be able to understand. and from this exhaustion of honesty grows the seedlings of contentment and falleth the fruit of bliss and comfort.

to sleep is to dream. don’t wake me up or let me shut my eyes.


dashboard confessional :: hands down
Breathe in for luck
Breathe in so deep
This air is blessed
You share with me
This night is wild
So calm and dull
These hearts they race
From self-control
Your legs are smooth
As they graze mine
We’re doing fine
We’re doing nothing at all

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me
So won’t you kill me
So I die happy
My heart is yours to fill or burst
To break or bury
Or wear as jewelry
Whichever you prefer

The words are hushed
Let’s not get busted
Just lay entwined here
Undiscovered
Safe in here from all those stupid questions
“Hey did you get some?”
Man, that is so dumb
Stay quiet
Stay near
Stay close, they can’t hear
So we can get some

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me
So won’t you kill me
So I die happy
My heart is yours to fill or burst
To break or bury
Or wear as jewelry
Whichever you prefer

Hands down this is the best day I can ever remember
I’ll always remember the sound of the stereo
The dim of the soft lights
The scent of your hair
That you twirled in your fingers
And the time on the clock
When we realized it’s so late
And this walk that we shared together
And the streets were wet
And the gate was locked
So I jumped it
And I let you in
And you stood at your door
With your hands on my waist
And you kissed me like you meant it
And I knew,
That you meant it