I don’t want to think anymore, at least for tonight. I just want to party and have a good time. Might take a few shots while relaxing and chilling. Turn on the t.v. and throw my phone across the room. Or better yet I might not even pay my phone bill. Fuck it! I feel like falling off the grid, taking my location off Google maps.
I’ll spend my night having fun!
They say in order to become an expert in something, you have to invest at least ten thousand hours into it. I’ve never kept an accurate account of the time I’ve spent; I’m too obsessive, and things tend to overlap. Even so, I would guess that I’ve put that much time in you. In thoughts of you, instead of actions for me. I’ve spent thousands of hours being unfair to us. Spent days wasting the same hours embracing childish ways.
Habits are tough to break, but I’ll make no excuses.
I’ve known this for years, been lectured in both ears
and still through tears, I keep on feeding these fears.
The sun makes all this very clear.
Some days I feel like I could steer
my life in a better direction if I went to church.
But I still question if I’m on the right search.
If my reasons are really sincere,
or if I’m just trying to keep my family near.
I write better in my notebook,
It’s got dreams and schemes; might even call it a hope book.
No pressures to entertain
No mindset to maintain
No obsession to contain
I’m freer in eight pages
Than I’ve ever been cleaning dog cages.
I don’t want to party, I just want to chill. Come and find me under the covers of 23 years. Sleeping in the same bed. Searching for the same dream. The one my family almost lost me to. The one I would have given everything to. I’m no longer that same fool. I’ve grown to be quite foolish, but in a good way. If there’s a good way to be?
It’s still a journey. And a story.
Nights when I’m not really fair to myself or I’ve abused myself in some way, I have to remind myself of little Grace. A girl who only knew how to have fun and actually enjoyed spending time with others. She wasn’t so into herself. There was no need to punish herself. She had passion and could always bounce back.
There’s still a part of that spirit left. And I’m taking time to rediscover it. To nurture it. My goal is to bring back the positive and let myself have some hope again. Allow myself to breathe again without shame.
I wish you were here, instead of on my mind. I just can’t seem to let you go. And that wouldn’t be so bad, but I have a feeling you’ve moved on without me. That I’m only just a memory. I hate that I let myself feel this way. That I let you in too deep, and you left pieces I could never reach. You’re stuck in me. A constant reminder that my heart’s too gentle for this. That my walls weren’t thick enough. I let myself fall, thinking you would always be there to catch me.
I’m a fool, but I know deep down I wouldn’t change a thing. I love this gentle heart and I don’t want walls too high or too thick. I won’t let fear rule this soul. Or heartache stop me from sharing the love I have. I’ll accept the love that’s given, and add it to the love that’s already here.
Listening to music with family is always fun, but add a little drink to the mix and you get an experience. Is it sad that this is the easiest way to bond? I use to think so. Now I’m just happy to have the chance to. To enjoy and have fun with the people I love. No regrets.
The only catch is going back down memory lane.
There’s something about being in the air, with no worries or cares. The wind in your hair is just as relaxing as the sea below. I wish I could fly. Witness my feet leave the ground and the wind rush by. I envy the birds a little. They get to touch the ground and reach for the skies. Flying is limitless. It’s freedom.
Parasailing is the closest I’ve ever been.
I’m an alcoholic (sort of recovering). And it will get worst by the time I reach 25; that is if I keep living this way. I’m stuck between wanting to succeed and wanting to bury my head in the sand. Sometimes I want to just curl up in a ball and sleep until my soul can be revived. I would rather dream craziness, then drown in reality. Support a habit, rather than accept that maybe the people around me speak the truth.
Feels like too many days are passing by, and there are not enough hours for them to hold. It’s like the space around me is a fragile piece of glass. The same piece I’ve broken time and time again. Every time it shatters, feels like another point for failure. When did I become so consumed? So obsessed?
Missing my Little Man 