Oh, Emerald.
You poor lost soul.
Everyday, you wake up from your dreams to a world of reality.
Realities that sometimes catch you completely off guard, making you believe you're not able to handle them; that your dreams are a better alternative to what goes on in the real world.
Remember that post I promised you a year back?
I think it's the proper time to relive the memories, and hopefully give them a well-anticipated final goodbye.
I was blind. My eagerness to become someone different, made me trust talking fruits. The apple spoke to me, and I listened. He said I was someone different; that no one could take away how special I was. I soaked up in every word he said. It gave me balance. Confidence. Bravery. I felt as if I could conquer the world; but something was holding me back. You see, when beauty is flashed in front of your eyes, you can barely see the big picture. The brightness of it blocked my previous views, my deep memories, my old life, and I couldn't see what was wrong. All I could see was that chance of being perfect; that hope of being great.
They say you don't know what you have until it's gone.
It's gone.
I never had anything at all.
It was an illusion.
Fruits can't define you. Fruits can't talk.
I was loud. My intention was to cure a silenced voice; a mute. I saw in him the wasted talent I thought I had. As egotistical as I am, everything thing he would do was a reference to me, naturally. He was quiet; I found fruits spoke for him at times. Those times when he did try communicating, his talent would compensate for all that was unsaid. But I intervened; I felt he was being stepped on, and misunderstood. I thought I had the power to bring his voice to life. I thought. My mistake. I took his voice and silenced it myself. I never listened; I never heard his voice.
They say walls have eyes.
They also have ears.
Mutes cannot define you. Mutes can't talk.
They listen.
I was bored. I craved adventures, new experiences, and love. I didn't want to settle down after finding love on the first try. I felt I hadn't seen enough to know what love actually was. I knew there had to be someone out there who was perfect in my eyes. But perfection doesn't exist. If it did, what made me believe I deserved it? A self-righteous maniac with depression deserves perfection; what a joke. I take love for granted. I'm still not clear on what it really is... or if I actually deserve it. He cares. I don't. Romantics at it's finest.
They say you accept the love you think you deserve.
I don't know if I do.
It's complicated.
It's actually simple.
Love can't define you. Love won't shut up.
I give up.
You poor lost soul.
Everyday, you wake up from your dreams to a world of reality.
Realities that sometimes catch you completely off guard, making you believe you're not able to handle them; that your dreams are a better alternative to what goes on in the real world.
Remember that post I promised you a year back?
I think it's the proper time to relive the memories, and hopefully give them a well-anticipated final goodbye.
I was blind. My eagerness to become someone different, made me trust talking fruits. The apple spoke to me, and I listened. He said I was someone different; that no one could take away how special I was. I soaked up in every word he said. It gave me balance. Confidence. Bravery. I felt as if I could conquer the world; but something was holding me back. You see, when beauty is flashed in front of your eyes, you can barely see the big picture. The brightness of it blocked my previous views, my deep memories, my old life, and I couldn't see what was wrong. All I could see was that chance of being perfect; that hope of being great.
They say you don't know what you have until it's gone.
It's gone.
I never had anything at all.
It was an illusion.
Fruits can't define you. Fruits can't talk.
I was loud. My intention was to cure a silenced voice; a mute. I saw in him the wasted talent I thought I had. As egotistical as I am, everything thing he would do was a reference to me, naturally. He was quiet; I found fruits spoke for him at times. Those times when he did try communicating, his talent would compensate for all that was unsaid. But I intervened; I felt he was being stepped on, and misunderstood. I thought I had the power to bring his voice to life. I thought. My mistake. I took his voice and silenced it myself. I never listened; I never heard his voice.
They say walls have eyes.
They also have ears.
Mutes cannot define you. Mutes can't talk.
They listen.
I was bored. I craved adventures, new experiences, and love. I didn't want to settle down after finding love on the first try. I felt I hadn't seen enough to know what love actually was. I knew there had to be someone out there who was perfect in my eyes. But perfection doesn't exist. If it did, what made me believe I deserved it? A self-righteous maniac with depression deserves perfection; what a joke. I take love for granted. I'm still not clear on what it really is... or if I actually deserve it. He cares. I don't. Romantics at it's finest.
They say you accept the love you think you deserve.
I don't know if I do.
It's complicated.
It's actually simple.
Love can't define you. Love won't shut up.
I give up.
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