Funny Not Funny

Funny how things are usually not funny
Forever tiptoeing on the sidelines
Kicking the dirt as I look up once in a while and feel no less an outcast

Go play with the other kids they used to say
But how? Why would they want to do that?
Today as then, feeling an invisible barrier between me and the world
Still somewhat withdrawn, still somewhat in my shell
Still incomplete
Asking me what's wrong is like trying to use a lighter when the fuel has run out
Pointless and frustrating
The root of the problem is so deeply buried under the mountain that is every failure and every sadness and mythical unturned rocks that may or may not exist.
You could catch me when I fall but I may keep falling
Landing nowhere and everywhere at the same time, an implosion within an explosion
I cannot tell if I've been moving too fast or if everything else has while I stood still
Getting lost within the shoulda woulda coulda's, being left with my hands still empty
The desire to escape persists as does the burn up in ash and nicotine

Go play with the other kids they used to say
I never did really
For the times I've kicked a ball around, I couldn't tell you if I was running home or walking the plank
Then again, I couldn't tell you where home is

Funny how things are usually not funny
Forever tiptoeing on the threshold of nothing in particular
Kicking the dirt as I look up once in a while and feel no more at ease than I do at home

Ineffective Words

What do I write?
How do I take these feelings and run them through my word machine only to find out that the machine is broken.
As if you are every breath that I have ever taken and the thought to which I awaken.
I force myself to find new words to describe this only because I feel like I haven't done it justice yet. And I don't want to.
I want to spend the rest of my days trying and then just almost failing to get these words perfect.
There are so many ways in which you are beautiful but I sometimes decide to feel a little good about myself and say that the most beautiful thing about you is how you see me. For you are my mirror in so many ways, reflecting and echoing me except that you take me by surprise in your reflection of me.
I also hope that when you see your reflection in me that it is accurate in its depiction of supernovas and swirling galaxies spinning around and coming to a stop as time froze for that millisecond and then continued. This is how I feel when I see you, like I might never see something that makes me this happy again. That I would do anything to be the piece of cloth that drapes you.
So as you hit the road this morning, ask me for a reading, as I tell you ineffectively how much I love you once again.

A fine ramble

We've come a long way from the time of the one love.
Today we may have several loves
Like changing fashions to fit our style

What exists now that didn't back then?
The feeling hasn't gone away for sure
Every time it feels real
Every time you think this could be the one
The chase is fun, but for how long?

One day you will want to just hold her/him and say "I'm not going anywhere if you're not!"
Hopefully it is not too late by then
If you can look into their eyes and feel that this right here is amazing, that's more than many can hope for.
To give that up for the endless chase is a stupid thought in itself. Even the thought that this could end at anytime is something more powerful than we realise. The pain of the loss of love is mistaken for a risk not worth taking.
That pain is beautiful and is an exceptionally powerful feeling to connect to. It is simultaneously as powerful as the love you feel, which you probably think is the only feeling you need/want to have.

It would be fine if as a species, we lived alone forever, but that is not how we are built. In this sense, being human is like being an artist. An artist feels like he/she is one when he/she has his/her audience. In the same way, we feel human and are connected to our human emotions the most when we have someone to share ourselves with. From our best to our worst, we see ourselves in the mirror of that someone. It is also this vulnerability that freaks us out to keep on the chase.

I could go on. I feel like I am just rambling on at this point. All I guess I'm trying to say here is that I do not want to be motionless on the account of fear. I don't want to run away either.


Pardon me, sometimes I talk a lot.