Sometimes the nights can get so cold, killing cold.
Not from the air, though, but people's eyes.
You lie in your bed and try to recall some joy, and find yourself eluding from indifferent people after another.
The world get bloody slow. So slow as if you were caught in the middle of time.
Or it can get so fast. So fast that you could hardly ever breathe.
But that's life. Without it, you ain't got nothing and you ain't nothing.
If you can't fix it, you gotta stand it. --Brokeback Mountain
I don't know what's with this feeling, maybe it's because of the night, the winter, and school.
Maybe it's because of Ste's "peeling skin." Hel, why'd it matter. This is gonna fade, as soon as I leave the desk and fall into my dreams, sink into my lovely tender pillow, disappear from under the blanket.
All of a sudden Ste's blog's topic smashed my thinking. "To face the wind is the fate of wings."
Isn't it so? Fate. We would rather call it fate and make it a faith, escaping from the fact that it was all our lives are about.
We're so frightened that we won't be able to take hold of our lives, vulnerable, delicate lives, that we would rather blind ourselves in believes, to hope in innocence and ignorance.
We do everything to DO somthing, make differences, make our lives MATTER, despite the fact that they, in fact, don't matter at all.
We search for eternity, the one vision, concept, that was created to be doomed.
And we look down, trying everything not to face the front, face what's coming, and what's becoming of us.
We fool ourselves that there can be light, a heaven, another world, even after our existence.(Of course there is! Or is there?)
And we look away from the end of time. Nothing worth a darn thing there. Nothing at all.
All we can say, and be sure, is that
I am. I was. --A.I.
留言列表
