I wish my heart was as filled as my cup
With something happy and warm
Though the cup is slowly draining
My heart remains as empty as ever
No one answers the real questions
The ones you’d most like to hear
What is wrong with me?
What should I fix?
They want to tell you hopeless things
You have a heart of gold
Well how is that?
If my heart is so valuable
Why has no one asked for it?
If I am so wonderful
Why do I always fall short of what I want?
The answers are there
Hidden somewhere in the silence
Somewhere covered by lies
Somewhere buried in deception
And there’s that something
That says “Just wait.”
But waiting is long and tiresome
And gets you nowhere in a hurry
Failing time and time again
Leaves you with the hope of eventual victory
But fail enough times
And you begin to wonder why hope exists
Is it there merely to fuel misery?
Who does this feeling benefit?
Many questions to answer.
None of them ever will be.
The words evade me
Like most things do
At this hour of day
When I lie awake
Of what’s yet to be accomplished,
A funny feeling.
Present with company as well as its absence.
As the absence I put upon myself reminds me
Unlike most things
It offers a silent reminder
Bias crafted by my own heart
Silence sought out
and found wanting
Yet not welcome
In this place I’ve been lying
Waiting for something
That may never come.
You look at the world in black and white. All I see is grey area.
The thing about me is I don’t see things as temporary. The moment that you hurt me you hurt me eternally even though eternity eventually passes.
You might see contradictions to this. Possibly from things I’ve said before? When I said to you that nothing lasts? That all things come to a halt and I’m always well aware? And this is true. I am always well aware. But I live in the present. When I feel, I feel strongly and the strength of the feeling lasts forever. Even if forever is contained within a moment.
When things don’t work well, I think of failure as a permanent state. The pain cuts me deeply and I’m wounded for life. Until it passes and I am left completely content and satisfied, the two most permanent feelings in the world.
And it’s funny to me that something that feels so permanent can live in a state of such impermanence. In this grey area where nothing is truly true, everything is relative, and contradictions actually make for more genuine statements. But then, I suppose, if you word it that way, it’s really not all that surprising at all.