Apparently, today (technically yesterday now — sorry) was my blog’s third anniversary. I had meant to begin blogging on my birthday (later in the month), a sort of coming of age present to myself; but, metaphorically speaking, the temperature of my feet began to drop, and I decided it’d be best to just jump in before I completely lost my nerve. I’m very glad I did so.
Though I haven’t exactly been on top of things lately, I appreciate this community a great deal, and everyone who’s decided to join me here, recently and in the past. I wish I could return half so much of your cleverness, kindness, and attention. But I’m afraid I must again caution that my attentions have external reasons to be diverted, and I may (assuming that’s even possible) be even more scarce than I’ve been. Sorry in advance!
I wish that I had hope to spare; A hand for those who need to hold; A word for those who cannot care; The courage to tell those who could be bold That while now it feels like empty air Like a flower bud, it will unfold.
I don’t want to be the angry one;
I don’t want to be another lost soul:
But it’s burned there all along,
Been there like a siren song,
And I don’t know how to vanquish
What I barely can control.
I’ve been really behind on comments and posts the last few days (Week? Two?). I’ll probably remain behind for a little while more. Sorry (again). I mentioned at some point previously that I’d probably be a little distant… Still, you all deserve a lot more attention than you’re getting right now. Well, whether I’m on or not, I haven’t forgotten about you; and hopefully, I’ll be able to find a proper balance of things.
Once, I was your echo:
Always different — yet still near.
But years have changed the question’s tones,
And the answer is less clear.
These days, we wander, through dark and bones,
Accompanied by fear;
These days, it is my voice that echoes,
And I don’t like what I hear.
I wonder, if you saw me now,
If there’s anything you’d recognize:
It’s been so very long
Since I’ve looked you in the eyes…
I don’t even recognize myself sometimes.
Am I still the same little girl you knew?
Or have I darkened through and through?
Could you ever care like you used to,
For the one who didn’t seem to care enough to be true?
Or, would it be only a chore to you?
I wonder now if it was pity;
Years of friendship born of a sense of duty.
Maybe this is something you could see;
Maybe even then, the signs of what’s inside me
Introduced themselves to you as some instinct — maybe.
Or maybe, this is just life
Where some people move along
And others still are hanging on
To the memories that become the saddest song,
And wind up buried like the deepest knife.