To sit outside heavens' door.
- On March 18, 2010 at 2:56 PM
How could I fault you for that? For being human and living and breathing and expressing yourself as only another person can? I have my foibles, I have my gremlins and deep, dark secrets I don't even know how not to hide. I am painted all over myself in bold, bright colors, my heart is on my sleeve, my torso, my face, my shoulders and the side of my neck--but I can't tell you about it. I don't have the words for what happens when that sunshine yellow meets the dark and makes a sickly, brackish green at the edges.
And how could I fault You, among all others? You express it much more eloquently in speech than I could ever manage, you lasso the blunt, indefinite words into manageable representations for such pointed, precise feelings. You say, and I think, 'Yes, that. Of course.' Because these feelings, they are so specific, and I can't wrap this language around it.
So don't worry. I will be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and forever. I will be here as long as there is something to be here for. And you can take time, take now and later and whenever, and I will take whenever I need, because, if we don't have that, if we don't have ourselves, then we are nowhere.
"And even if you don't want to speak tonight,
well that's alright, alright with me."
hits
Don't steal it, it's not cool, and then I'll have to send angry hordes of zombie Pikachu's after you,
your family, and friends.. and that doesn't sound like much fun for anybody, now does it?
Heh. Okay, so it might be fun for me. But yeah, don't be a d-bag.
