a box in the attic

song - elephant, damien rice.

i am lost.
all the advice in the world cannot bring me back. no matter what you say, i am lost. no matter what everyone tells me, there is something, something missing from their view. there is something on the inside that is so fragile and misunderstood. and we, we are so fragile. you do not believe me, i know, but we are so incredibly fragile. i am going to break us. i am going to break us on accident, and there is no amount of superglue that can hold us together forever. i'm terribly sorry.

it's just that your eyes looked so sad. i don't know if it was for you or sad for me, but i don't want you to be, either way. but most especially not sad for me. do not be sad for me. i can handle it. i can get through everything. slowly, surely. i will get through everything. because i understand on this deeper level what it all is for. my logic can handle everything; it's my emotions that will take time.

song - if he asks you that, jesse harris.

i feel so lame when all my emotion is held within songs. when i can't even accurately explain what i am feeling without quoting someone else's words. i make playlists for every emotion, it seems. and then i delete them out of shame. or i add, continually, to this one. this one that i am making into almost epic proportions. i just keep adding, and adding, and every time something happens, a new song is added.

i will admit, too many songs are sad and slow, sung soft and low, but i do not mind. i am fine, i am fine. i am fine because they are singing to me, about me, from me, inside me. everyone else's words are becoming my voice. i am giving everyone else's ideas new meanings. they all mean something so special, so secure, to me.

song - sunbathing, carey ott.

there is too much going on in my life, and i am avoiding it all. it is a terrible coping method, i know, but if i pretend like nothing is happening, if i am so passive, maybe everything will go away. i know it won't, but i can't handle this right now. i can't handle a single thing that is happening in my life. not even the most mundane, the most trivial tasks.

there is just too much nostalgia. too much holding on. too much regret, and too many attempts to never regret anything. people who say they have no regrets are just lying, or are repressing things. because you have to regret things.

song - a call to apathy, the shins.

(because new slang was already there.)

when i originally wrote this, i thought of "execution" as the killing of something, but i realized the word had a double meaning, and that chances are, most people would think of it in the other way. and that's fine.

it was an electrifying execution of fate
all parties involved watched with a feeling
of intense gratification
and a fear of the future

one slip, one slight miscalculation could send
the entire plan crashing to the ground
with absolutely no grace
and no backups

words can only say so much until hands take control
and the language, loud and unspoken,
shatters all silence
and breaks all hearts

all i want to do is live, loud and clear, the same way i see so many other people do. i want to show. i want to show you. and i can't, i can't. i can't show what can't be shown. there is nothing to say only because there are too many things to say. when things pile up, they become ignored. things should just happen gradually. but because they don't, when everything comes at you too fast, you just can't do it. i don't want to let go. i don't want to hold on. i can't. i can't. i can't. (if i say it three times, is it true? maybe i should say i can, i can, i can. but that just sounds like those old self-help tapes.) i don't understand why things don't turn out the way it seems they should. because so many things in my life are heading in a certain direction, and then take sharp turns to exactly where i do not want them to go. where is my good luck? where is my fate? it would make sense to do things the way they happen in my head. then the world would be fine, and everyone would end up happy.


song - redwings, guillemots.

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