Me Myself & Regret

coloring book

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A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.

Eternity is in love with the production of time.

The busy bee has no time for sorrow.

The hours of folly are measured not by the clock, but of wisdom; that, no clock can measure.

Some people have danced and laughed with tragedy. While others do not know how to dance at all.

And somewhere between those two dancers, there is a place that resembles ours.

You likely won't ever see it.

But some have.

And you likely won't see them either.

Because their world faces a different direction than ours.

I hope you're happy, wherever you are.

It feels like just the other day I was walking on a bridge just like this.

I stare at the dark below and think about jumping.

It all feels so familiar yet so distant at the same time.

Has your opinion of the ordinary girl changed within this timeframe?

Mine has.

I'm a little more worried about her as a person than I was back then.

Well, Maybe "worried" isn't the right word. But I'm starting to think she's capable of doing a lot m ore than what she actually wants to do?

does that make sense?

You see, I think there are two crucified girls. Even more if you think about it.

But what I was getting at is that one of those versions of her wants to be suggestive happy and be an ordinary teenage girl all day.

While the other cares more about "tension" and is a religious zealot wanting to share the "warmth" of the god with many eyes to all.

All you have to do is reach out.

Of course we are forgetting the version of her which is eternally happy.

Or the version of her that doesn't want you at all.

So many versions, yet so little time.

So what's the lie?

The mask I wear, or the face beneath it.

But which one is real?

All of them? none of them? who knows.

I would imagine the crucified girl would know.

But she probably doesn't care to find out either.

I just want to make memories while I still can.

Good memories, bad memories, sad memories, passionate memories.

Memories of anything and everything.

If I feel every feeling the world has to offer, I'll have an unlimited library of experiences to pull from and be inspired by.

The point is you cant find out who the real "her" is because the real her is all of those things.

Deep down she's just an ordinary girl. Not some genius or prodigy or anything like that.

...

Okay maybe she is a genius, but anyone can be a genius if they spend their entire life just living other lives via literature.

She told me before she was not an actor, but one of the things she enjoys most is imagining how she would feel as someone else, someone who isn't real. Or what she would do in their shoes if only she could fit into them.

But the second she closes the book, she's just our ordinary girl once again.

Then everything turns grey.

And she has to go out and find new colors to fill everything in.

I hate how hard it is to read her.

Life would be so much easier if  ̶I̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶o̶p̶e̶n̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶s̶k̶i̶n̶ ̶u̶p̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶p̶a̶g̶e̶s̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶d̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶p̶a̶s̶s̶i̶o̶n̶ She wasn't printed as a Picture book.

The main reason so many people fall in love with fiction is because they're searching for something they can't obtain on their own.

But there are also people who fall in love with it simply because there isn't anything to do.

People who get so bored of not being able to feel anything that they allow themselves to fall into those who can.

Parasite.

I kind of hate reading actually.

It's time consuming...you cant do it in the dark...and the memories you get out of it can barely be called memories at all since they aren't your own.

But the thing I love about it; is it always manages to outweigh those somehow.

Even if I wish they wouldn't 

What do you think about...fate?

Fate is...inevitable

It's one of the few things I will openly admit to believing in.

In fact, I don't think it's a matter of belief at all. It's there, It's all around us.

Maybe we do see the same as one another?

Everything is a cycle.

We all will wind up in the same place regardless of the decisions we make.

Do you not see the resemblance it has to fate?

...

You're changing.

I don't know if its for the good or for the bad.

You see a ordinary girl once taught me: Everything is connected.

Life and death.

Day and night.

You and me?

Yeah...you and me.

Now that I think of it maybe she isn't a picture book at all?

Maybe she's like... A coloring book?

A really advanced one with a lot of difficult drawing that...require special attention, and weird colors like chartreuse and mauve.

And she's just waiting to be filled in.

All we have to do is reach out.

The clouds I focus on pass over the sun several seconds later, blacking out the glow that had been dying my hands gold.

My thoughts do not pick up again after that.

I just keep looking up

Even after the light had gone away.

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