“she wears her heart like her skin, she’s always outside in
but sometimes, sometimes she’ll fall down
she’s so far in“
– from sometimes by howie beck
this week has flown by. days within white walls, music playing from a white ibook. days with people displaying passion i can only pray i’ll have burning in me too. days with two kinds of family tied by blood in more ways than one.
i have alot to say but more to listen to.
i find myself at a loss of words for the first time in a long while. there’s an odd cocktail of disbelief, euphoria and detachment in me, like i’m not really here. like i’m blindfolded, possibly standing in the middle of the desert, the eye of a hurricane or even on the edge of a cliff, about to fall down. like i’m looking right at myself from a third person’s point of view.
there’s no way to really express how i feel at the moment or what my thoughts are. they’re swirled like colours on a palette, scents in a bottle of perfume. wrapped up in so many things that i don’t know what i’m tasting anymore.
it’s unfamiliar territory and i’m not sure of what to make of this sensation.