The current mood of dyseluxon@hotmail.com at www.imood.com

 
The Big Bag of Random Stuff
 

 
We weren't born with a name, we were given a name. A hedgehog doesn't have a name. It's just a nameless thing with a handful of flesh and skin and a beating heart. A hedgehog doesn't even know it doesn't have a name.
 
 
   
 
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
 
I think I am beginning to assimilate an inkling of this... entity in me.

I am afraid of letting it go.
Because...
...



it was the best I could find.

And I don't want to let go of it. For fear of never returning back to it.


Or maybe even being afraid that if I let it go, it will melt away into the vicissitudes of the shores of my vast memories. And cease to hold any special significance. And I will be left with nothing. Nothing but the burnt out grey remains of a once beauteous effervescent sparkler. Now lying pointless, exhausted of its function, form and meaning. Fit for nowhere but the depths of the dirt.

How does one shy away from sentimentality?




Hold on
Hold on to yourself
for this is gonna hurt like hell.

Hold on
Hold on to yourself.
You know that only time can tell

What is it in me that refuses to believe
this isn't easier than the real thing.

Am I in heaven here or
am I...
At the crossroads I am standing.

So now you're sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
that you'll be strong tomorrow
and will see another day
and we will praise it
and love the light that brings a smile
across your face.

Oh god
if you're out there won't you hear me.
I know we're never talked before

Am I in heaven here or
am I in hell
at the crossroads I am standing.

Hold on
hold on to yourself
for this is gonna hurt like hell.
~Hold On,
Sarah McLachlan




So I hold on, in spite of everything, playing the ever-willing victim unnecessarily, when really, I could throw it all to the wolves and run careless and free. Because having nothing to tie me down also entails having nothing to come back to.
So I wait.
For the one to come along and wash me anew. And bind me with new chains of his own.
Because we are, afterall, prisoners of our own choosing.



 

 
   
  This page is powered by Blogger, the easy way to update your web site.  

Home  |  Archives