*See the above title*
I would like to go to sleep now.
I do not want to keep thinking about thigns that are seriously bothering me and causing me to be at best, very irate.
I am tired of having things to complain about. Especially when the whole of my entire problem is myself.
Woo for insomnia.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Today
I absolutely am starting to hate the moments in life where it feels as if I am waking up from a dream. I become aware of the insignificance of my person in the vast context of a rather large rock spinning about rather haphazardly in a very improbable universe of virtually infinite possibilities.
As odd as it is that I believe so strongly in purpose, in responsibility, in those seemingly trite things. Believing in simple yet intoxicating beautiful things. Believing that the sun will still rise after the darkest nights, believing in that new sun shining on morning dew covering roses, believing in naive yet powerful dreams of the innocence of childhood, believing that despite the horrid paths we often take that there is a love so much bigger then we could dare hope to dream of.
There is the ever present belief firmly rooted in my mind...yet when you try to paint these beautiful thoughts against the cold and apathetic canvas that our world so often is...I can barely remember who I am.
The vast coldness threatens the heart, seeks to encase it with it's apathy and disillusionment. Even though I have always loathed the weakness of giving in I find myself at an impasse and i am simply to exhausted to go any further. I cannot even spare the luxury of looking at the view. I feel this deep seated need to sleep, to somehow let the soft darkness wash away these thoughts with sweet oblivion.
As odd as it is that I believe so strongly in purpose, in responsibility, in those seemingly trite things. Believing in simple yet intoxicating beautiful things. Believing that the sun will still rise after the darkest nights, believing in that new sun shining on morning dew covering roses, believing in naive yet powerful dreams of the innocence of childhood, believing that despite the horrid paths we often take that there is a love so much bigger then we could dare hope to dream of.
There is the ever present belief firmly rooted in my mind...yet when you try to paint these beautiful thoughts against the cold and apathetic canvas that our world so often is...I can barely remember who I am.
The vast coldness threatens the heart, seeks to encase it with it's apathy and disillusionment. Even though I have always loathed the weakness of giving in I find myself at an impasse and i am simply to exhausted to go any further. I cannot even spare the luxury of looking at the view. I feel this deep seated need to sleep, to somehow let the soft darkness wash away these thoughts with sweet oblivion.
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