"Hold us down like anchors, drown us out at sea"

These days it seems like we all have our anchors. We're all drowning because of some kind of sadness that clings to us like a disease. These anchors though, people need other peoples help to cut the anchors loose. But if everyone's sinking then how can we do that? How can we save eachother without saving ourselves first which we need the help of other people busy trying to save themselves. It's a really crazy vicious cycle and it's sad. Why? Why does this happen?

On the bright side, maybe if we all sink together-keeping up with the analogy- we can all party once we're underwater.

dead memories.

They say scars fade,
but memories don't.
That promise made-
doesn't mean I won't.

look at the stars, look how they shine for you

Stars. Whatever we do in life, all the stupid decisions we make, they're watching it all. I don't believe in god or a higher power or whatever, the stars probably aren't watching-but they're always there. A constant sparkle in the sky, a constant source of beauty in this crazy world of horrible things. They remind us of how insignificant we all really are in giant world and I think realisisng that can change the way you see things, just for a little while. It can make you happy-why bother being sad when there's this giant world out there to explore, and why bother being sad when the world has enough sad people facing life or death situations? But it can also make you sad. Why are you sad when you are living in luxury compared to people on the other side of the world? I can bring back painful memories, of things that happened underneath the stars. They could be happy memories, and longing for that same happiness can make you sad. Some envy the stars, why do they get to star up there, being all lovely when we're stuck down here in this crazy world? But who knows, maybe just maybe the stras have their pwn little problems and we're just as unlcuky as they are.

"there are ghosts in the walls and they crawl in your head through your ears"

Words hurt- regardless of whether they're said, or trapped behind the screen of a mobile phone. Once something been said, it's been said and it will forever haunt you. Like a shadow, some words follow you everywhere. Blast all the music you want, but the words once said have already crawled through your ear and permanently tattooed themselves in your mind. They say actions speak louder than worlds, and I guess we've all jut blindly followed that saying. It may be true, actions may speak louder than words, but they don't get rid of the words. Time will- Even then, 20 years down the track you might be staring out the window and like a ghost the words will crawl back into your mind again.

"you're my wonderwall"

From the start,
you slowly broke the cage 
that wrapped around my heart.


Now even the stars scream your name,
you're a shadow in my thoughts. 
Or maybe I'm just insane.


You saved me while I sank,
consumed by a deep blue.
But what was eating me
is now eating you. 


Now i don't know what to do,
but weave these words-
silly little words,
and tell you that I love you.

"I still press your letters to my lips"

Certain things bring up certain memories, and music is one of those memory-evoking things. Songs you loved in the past can bring up past memories, ideas ect. Listening to those songs again, you're kind of bombarded by those memories, and the person you were listening and basically obsessing over that song. It's sad really how fast things change, in what really is hardly time at all. What would the little me think of the me today? Will it always be something along the lines of (quote parkway drive once again god these people are philosophical) "what the fuck have I become?" (or as I would've said "what the fluff have I become"-too innocent to swear) as   we fall deeper into this ugly world. Or does it get better? Does growing up make us better people. From what we're taught to expect as kids, the answer is yes. But now this concept of "growing up" is one just flinging us all deeper into some hole and making us all the people we said we'd never be. Or maybe it's just me. 

Snuff-Slipknot. 

To get all personal and shit, this song reminds me of a time where I was innocent, and also a moment in my life where I swore I'd never become a certain person, and well sadly-that person is me now. 

for you, wrapped in blue

monsters in her mind
allergic to smoke
of the cigarette kind
watch as they choke


the words they would shout
now only rasps
of sadness and self doubt
but nothing lasts


Echoes of a happier girl
while roaming the city end to end
they watched as she would twirl
the gymnast, my friend


But alone she whispers "somethings wrong"
can't escape the blue
found no happiness in any song
no idea what to do


The monsters ate her dreams
ones of flying away from this place
that once stitched up the seams
stopped tears rolling down her face


Hey girl, go and cry 
for a long while
then stare at the sky
and simply smile.


Because one day you'll be up there
flying in a plane
Fulfilling the dreams many deemed insane


The monsters will be gone
lost in the clouds


You'll be ok. 

I looked at the stars and couldn't help but think of you, my dear

So I was walking my dog last night and one of the great things about where I live is that it's so isolated from the rest of the world that you can see the stars. And there are so many. Looking up into the stars, I couldn't help but think about how many other people where looking at the same stars as me, in some distant corner of the world. Maybe somewhere else there was a girl like me looking up at the same stars, but living in complete poverty. Maybe someone was dying, and those stars where the last thing they saw as they drifted into black. Maybe someone some on a romantic date with the one they love. So many possibilities that it made me feel so small and insignificant. There are so many people in this world, and they all have their own story. A story full of ups and downs, monsters and sunny days. What's hard to comprehend is that every one of those 7 billion stories out there are different. Seven billion stories are floating out there in the world, but what's kind of poetic is how they all float around under the same sky, the same stars. 

But what if these stories are already written, that no matter what we think we can't write our own stories? That we're all the puppets of a greater being with a warped sense of humour? That our life is scripted. 

It's kind of scary really. 

Then again what about life isn't scary?