Sunday, January 14, 2007
Hearts Gravitate
I miss people. Goddamn, I really, really do. I miss a lot of people. For some, it's a new missing. For others, it's old. And sometimes you can miss someone when he or she is right next to you, while others it can take months or years and years until it sneaks up on you like some horrible flu you can't shake.
Sometimes the missing can take hold of you so tight you don't know what to do with yourself.
Otherwise, it's just thoughts.
It's funny about people, connecting, disconnecting, and misconnecting. Because things are always so seemingly different from what meets the eye.
Like time, and how its relative. I'm learning about Einstein's theory of special relativity. It's tricky ... a sidebar, but not.
My heart hurts this moment, and I'm probably listening to the wrong music, but goddamn, sometimes you just need to feel, you know? Sometimes you can be so far past denial that you've come around the other end, like all the way around some Mobius Strip, and you've met yourself, and you're all inside out and queasy, but you are only you, same one in the mirror, nothing on the outside has changed but your insides are all flipped around, changed forever.
For what seems like forever ...
And sometimes forever means later, and sometimes forever means someday, and sometimes forever only means until tomorrow, and it's percentage-wise so hard to tell which is which.
I'm not sad, actually. Only when I think about this, I guess. Only it's even sadder that I've moved past sadness and denial to acceptance, and I cannot tell if that's a form of giving up or being realistic.
Time. All you need is time. All you need is time. All you nee-eed is ... time.
You know what's funny? How lyrics can enter your brain, or some song or quote like it's your own for only a few seconds, and how suddenly you come back into the world from wherever you've been and you realize they weren't your words at all ... another sidebar.
God, I've been thinking about last words a lot, last words that weren't known to be the last words, and neurotic tendencies and the neverending struggle for who gets the last words, and how sometimes last words are not words at all but silence, or sentiments, or memories repeating like songs, over and over.
Missing hurts so much. Right or wrong, it does. Sometimes you can miss someone and it's okay, because things are so much better, and you know they wouldn't be better if you were in any situation different from missing them.
Maybe that's where time comes in; it does help heal a little -- distance, and time.
I think everyone has them, though. I really do; even if they are just lying in the back of your brain taking a nap they are there to be woken up with the smallest, most random reminder.
I'm so tired. I'm so tired of missing. And suddenly I wonder what we really miss. The person, or the part of ourselves they brought out into the air never to be seen or heard from again.
(Then again, what's the difference?)
I think that's percentages too. Because people come along as much as they go, but the pieces always create a different picture, don't they?
It's fascinating, and bittersweet, all the same.
I miss people. Goddamn, I really, really do. I miss a lot of people. For some, it's a new missing. For others, it's old. And sometimes you can miss someone when he or she is right next to you, while others it can take months or years and years until it sneaks up on you like some horrible flu you can't shake.
Sometimes the missing can take hold of you so tight you don't know what to do with yourself.
Otherwise, it's just thoughts.
It's funny about people, connecting, disconnecting, and misconnecting. Because things are always so seemingly different from what meets the eye.
Like time, and how its relative. I'm learning about Einstein's theory of special relativity. It's tricky ... a sidebar, but not.
My heart hurts this moment, and I'm probably listening to the wrong music, but goddamn, sometimes you just need to feel, you know? Sometimes you can be so far past denial that you've come around the other end, like all the way around some Mobius Strip, and you've met yourself, and you're all inside out and queasy, but you are only you, same one in the mirror, nothing on the outside has changed but your insides are all flipped around, changed forever.
For what seems like forever ...
And sometimes forever means later, and sometimes forever means someday, and sometimes forever only means until tomorrow, and it's percentage-wise so hard to tell which is which.
I'm not sad, actually. Only when I think about this, I guess. Only it's even sadder that I've moved past sadness and denial to acceptance, and I cannot tell if that's a form of giving up or being realistic.
Time. All you need is time. All you need is time. All you nee-eed is ... time.
You know what's funny? How lyrics can enter your brain, or some song or quote like it's your own for only a few seconds, and how suddenly you come back into the world from wherever you've been and you realize they weren't your words at all ... another sidebar.
God, I've been thinking about last words a lot, last words that weren't known to be the last words, and neurotic tendencies and the neverending struggle for who gets the last words, and how sometimes last words are not words at all but silence, or sentiments, or memories repeating like songs, over and over.
Missing hurts so much. Right or wrong, it does. Sometimes you can miss someone and it's okay, because things are so much better, and you know they wouldn't be better if you were in any situation different from missing them.
Maybe that's where time comes in; it does help heal a little -- distance, and time.
I think everyone has them, though. I really do; even if they are just lying in the back of your brain taking a nap they are there to be woken up with the smallest, most random reminder.
I'm so tired. I'm so tired of missing. And suddenly I wonder what we really miss. The person, or the part of ourselves they brought out into the air never to be seen or heard from again.
(Then again, what's the difference?)
I think that's percentages too. Because people come along as much as they go, but the pieces always create a different picture, don't they?
It's fascinating, and bittersweet, all the same.
Labels: Bloc Party, Change, Relationships
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