just a girl

romanticizing the depths of hell words I will never say

[slumsworld]

I don’t want to be here

More often than not

It’s become so clear

Change the scenery

The characters

The screen

It’s numbing being me

How do I go quietly

Gently

Into the night

Without you missing me

Here

By your side

The chatter in the back

Numbing my senses to where

I could never leave a mark

Please know one thing about the storm

I can only hold an umbrella

So long before it’s worn

[slumsworld]

I'm losing focus...

but I can not afford to drift.

All I want to do is drive along the coast,

bathe myself in salt water,

and sing to the red woods.

I'm not asking for much,

only for time to stand still,

a couple years to evaporate.

I'm not asking for much,

just some freedom,

adventure,

nature,

life.

[slumsworld]

Bigger

I guess I want to do something bigger. You know?

Do something that matters.

Travel to places, make art, and say something inspirational.

I suppose there has always been too many choices, too little time, lack of passion or funds or decisiveness.

Nothing quite feels right, fits, or belongs.

[slumsworld]

Balance

My grandma once told me that if we stay busy,

we won't have time for our depression.

She never told me what to do,

when our productivity turned into insanity.

My therapist once told me that if I stay rested,

I would stay sane.

She never told me what to do,

when my boredom turned into insanity.

And I guess if I don't master the art of balance,

I'll just simply be,

insane.

[slumsworld]

embedded

People move on. Life goes on. People leave. Moments pass by.

At times we only have our own memory to accompany us. At times it is the illusion of what was. Who came and who went.

The phantom of what used to be. The skeletons in our closet who now are living completely separate lives from us.

We end up alone, separate from these times and places, disconnected from the moment we're finally able to reflect on what it might have been.

Dissecting who we are because of these moments, who we were, and how they impacted our current selves.

I've determined that people are these moments we experience—how they make us feel, how they've imprinted in our six senses, how we only get a glimpse.

I'm finally understanding art in its entirety. When someone is gone we still have a piece of them. When the moment has passed, we have a chance to understand more.