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underneath the stars
It is all very well, when the pen flows, but then there are the dark days when imagination deserts one, and it is an effort to put anything down on paper. That little you have achieved stares at you at the end of the day, and you know the next morning you will have to scrape it down and start again. ~Elizabeth Aston
Thursday 15 October 2009
Before We Get Too Old
15:39

Lollipops turn into cigarettes. The innocent ones turn into sluts. Homework goes in the trash. Mobile phones are being used in class. Detention becomes suspension. Soda becomes vodka. Bikes become cars. Kisses turn into sex. Remember when getting high meant swinging on the playground? When protection meant wearing a helmet? When the worst things you could get from boys were cooties? Dad’s shoulders were the highest place on earth and mum was your hero? Your worst enemies were your siblings. Race issues were about who ran the fastest. War was only a card game. And the only drug you knew was cough medicine. When wearing a skirt didn’t make you a slut. The most pain you felt was when you skinned your knees, and goodbyes only meant until tomorrow? And we couldn’t wait to grow up.

It's probably more apt to be posted by a girl, but so what. Nice little piece of writing that I came across on Facebook. The overall mood reminds me of 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol. I think everybody can relate to this.~Zhongy~


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Tuesday 6 October 2009
Broken Records
23:08

Days like this, you wonder what the hell are you doing here, sitting in front of the keyboard, shouting at the four empty walls. The furious tapping echoes softly, but the housemates don't hear you, and so don't the neighbours, because it's all in your head. Only a coward hides behind the face of pristine calmness, while heart-wrenching music wails out from the speakers. Your thoughts yearn for a voice, yet the mind whispers doubts, lies, deceit. The fragility of your own sanity sneaks upon you unaware; oh but wait! have you not been here before? The all too familiar dread rolls in, and you tell yourself, 'here we go again..'

Days like this, you just want to curl up under the comforting embrace of the duvet and try to get some sleep. But even the sweet scent of Moroccan roses don't soothe the journey into your dreams. You lie awake knowing that sleep only postpones the inevitable, that one day the skeletons will come out of the closet. The candle at the foot of the bed flickers; Shakespeare flashes across the head -- we are all poor players indeed.. Or maybe it's just me. Outside the window a car drives by. You suddenly wish that somebody would just come and pick you up for a drive. Tail lights disappear into the horizon. Now there is only darkness, and you're back at square one...

Meine Ruh' ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer,
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.

~Zhongy~


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