Everytime I look up at the ceiling, I hold the world in my palm.
It seems either screwed up or a wonderful thing. To have control, or to not.
The sun, shining through the window all the way to my dull black eyes, I wonder how something as this could be beautiful, giving colors to the day.
I think, and think- I eventually ask the why questions. Did I make the right choice? Are sometimes wrong choices needed to make the right one? Is it worth?
The moon then takes over, the borrowed glow. I stare at it and wonder why the sun is gone.
Am I greedy? Do I deserve more? I don't try hard enough, then why.
I keep trying all forms of escapism, yet it all leads to the bed.
I could never understand the satisfaction of mastering.
Why do I try, why do I not try? My dreams are always about this one beach, where I can get my feet sunk in the sand, to the sea and my eyes lost to the sky blues.
I then have tons of passion, like clicking pictures of 'ugly' people 'cause most professionals do not, or, setting up a restaurant which soothes souls and then I have none. I am back on my bed again.
Will I be on the ground soon?
Everytime I look at the mirror, I see how beautiful yet flawed being I am. I force appreciate me.
It helps, it does.
It's crazy how you sometimes wish time would gallop. You smile and say that it's going to be soon there.
Would it really? Everything looks pretty when you don't look deeper, and sometimes it's the opposite.
I wonder what each of them are thinking in this moment, are some of them thinking about their future? Or their past or death?
I don't hope for the latter.
I hope death isn't the only means of ending the misery.
I hope this world I hold in my palm offers so much more, content or happiness.
It's time to paint my nails in blue. It's time to lie on bed smiling for no hopes tomorrow. To just, go with the flow whatever the moon decides.
