UnderUnder the proverbial night, i looked at the text that were streaming through my screen, listening to Massive Attack as coffee rushed in my brain. The beats and the drums had my legs shaking, the hyperactivity of caffeine kicking into overdrive. The lights slowly dimmed as the music played on." Her eyes, she's on the dark side. Neutralise every man in sight" Under the hypnotic rythmn, it gradually seemed that the song will never end, and an angel will approach me while the lights finally whisper out into the empty paper on the board. The fan breathes on my desk, and there was no sigh of movement. My roommate was asleep, the world suddenly slowed to a crawl, and time approached me. She asked if i wanted more time. Under the silence of the fading noise, my head seemed to twirl, and i floated away from consiousness. Sleep started to speak to me, seduced me with the glories of rest. But the awakening beats of the next song suddenly jolted me into life, an electric shock that gave life to the monster that was about to break loose of the fragile delicate shell. I was high on nothing, and running on empty, the frankestein in me fighting to control the weakening soul. Under the impression of forced awakeness, i listened to teardrops, and was reminded of House. Dont you just love the sacarstic comments that was made in the show? Wouldnt it be wonderful if i could do that too? I would of course be slapped around, but the comedy effect, the hilarity and the absolute absurbness of it all would make it worth it. Under the swirling tornado in my mind, the migraine getting worse, and torturing me into reading my notes on the Great man of history. I hate that subject, i do not want to read about your fucking life stories. But yet it is required of me to know who you are. Albeit you are interesting, but not today. Not today. Under the pictures that slowly appear in my mind, i may have to start to let go of somebody, of you. I want to let go now, but the lonesome self would not let me sacrifice whatever leverage i have, whatever hope that i have. I escape from the past, only to find it in every single reflection that i make. What am i to you? You? and you? Am i starting to fall for you? Or you? Or you for that matter? What about you? And you? A seeming cracked mirror on the surface of my very being tells me nothing of the truth that i seek. Bitterness it may be, i may drift into the end of the depression spectrum. Hopefully somebody will pull me out, but that doesnt seem to be happening. I am living in the past. I know that. Maybe because i have found nothing in the present. Maybe because i seen nothing in the present. Maybe because i am just denying what i really found in the present. But i do not like what i really found. I might know what it is, but i just cannot accept it. It is inane that i would have that kind, further accentuated by the facts that i know and nobody else will ever know. As the dancefloor of my lives break into different colours, the twinkling eyes winking at me whenver i started at one, i drift deeper into the nothingness that seemed to envelop me now. Under the heat of the night, who surrounds me, i think to myself that there is nobody out there to save me. Under the cool of the coming morning, which starts to think of me, i wonder whether it is time. Under everything and nothing, i imagine that i have to let it go. Let you go, let you go, let you go. As i think about the future, i imagine that i have to let you go, and forget about the regrets that i made. You will never know, and i will never know if it could, but now it should end. It will end. It shall end. It ends. Under the knife, i cut open the memories, and there it went, with the blender of my trashcan. Welcome to abysmal emptyness, and a fresh new pure morning. Let's get it on shall we? Justin ranted at 4:58:00 am on the |