[▶] for safekeeping.

rhododendron

is it a part i'll never understand
is it inefficient? stupid
maybe i'm blindsided by everything the world has to offer
am i wasting time? battery? electricity that i could be using for actual work?
i'm writing but i'm only writing because i'm not sure what to do right now.

it's not that i don't want to write.
i haven't written in a while, sure
maybe i'm just turning to it again in hopes of reaching some form of catharsis
i haven't seemed to be able to touch lately.

something's strung up. i think i'm alright, but i don't really know
does anybody ever really know what they're doing? or is every
new day simply another battle to break through a new boundary
nudge the glass door just a little closer toward the edge of the cliff
fighting fear every second you wake
and then sleep and repeat.

do i know...? ...i don't know.
haha. inflation, am i right?
funny state the world's in these days, i don't know -
are we all just running round in circles like headless chickens or..?

it was only for a second, just a brief flash
when i suddenly had a moment alone
didn't grab my phone, didn't do anything else
just went to grab some more water
then i
bent over
rested my elbows on the cooler
and found myself taking two, three, a couple more quick, short breaths
and then the words "am i okay? i'm okay"
(maybe i just have to be)
came spilling out somehow

i'm not really sure. maybe someone really can have too little time to themselves
i mean i knew that already, but
i didn't think about it. i mean does everyone ever really
just keep pondering things like this day to day
if all their responsibilities involve other people?

(negative) ten days shy of turning twenty
i find myself already feeling that weight carry itself along on my shoulders
i don't have much time to be writing either. i need to keep my computer alive
alive enough such that it can last another two hours' worth of lessons
and then maybe a couple more. just so i can finish something more myself.
because lord knows i have so much piling up on my plate already -

is it a matter of sensitivity or just ignorance?
i find myself wondering innumerable questions
perhaps all senseless, not much point to them
but whatever the mind wants to do, am i right?

erratic piano keys
"this'll get bigger, if you know what i mean?"
"friends aren't fixed, they can't come in (comment?)"
i'm not even really sure anymore.

i carry on typing away on keys
still black and white, but maybe not the kind i'd like to be writing on
the ivory and ebony help me write in a different way
but those emotions are more ephemeral. left to the time and wind and
whoever who happens to hear or not hear at all.
i wish i was at home playing the piano right now.

surely it matters more than 20-sided dice
20 different years and 20 individual facets
maybe what mattered wasn't really the outcome, it was
examining all the different possibilities that resided within those faces
"i'm sorry if you're living and you're seventeen"
who was i at seventeen, anyway?
in three years so much has changed
and i find myself looking back, reflecting on so many things once again
but for what? for who? myself?
have i been doing that often enough - or not enough at all?
i think it's been a while since i've sat in my own thoughts like this
i just haven't had the time, between
twelve to fourteen hour school days
sometimes of my own volition, sure
but you can't always trust the heart and body to link up exactly
sometimes chords don't always line up

sometimes you purposefully contrast the murder and gore and bloodshed in a war scene with
classical peals and violins melting like Kandinsky colour
on a canvas
sometimes he doesn't make sense, you know?
but i think i rather prefer
no, i've always been drawn to
the chaotic mess of
colour and line and geometry
i wonder if he'd have liked how chekhov may have
intellectualised the way he'd created
or would he? would chekhov even care?
just - fucking intellectualise it, won't you? you're
starting to get on my nerves
sorry.

cloud cover seems so shy
what does that mean? haha
nothing. you?
i'm alright. just thinking.
about what?
about...
...yeah?
...nothing.
oh.

yeah, sure.
maybe one day i'll be able to fucking listen.