it’s a metaphor, you see; you put the textbook in front of you, but you don’t give it the power to actually teach you anything
When we hold each other, in the darkness, it doesn’t make the darkness go away. The bad things are still out there. The nightmares still walking. When we hold each other we feel not safe, but better. ‘It’s all right,’ we whisper, ‘I’m here, I love you.’ and we lie: ‘I’ll never leave you.’ For just a moment or two the darkness doesn’t seem so bad.
I know my being happy is an anomaly. No one knows me better than you. But I can say without avoiding your gaze, without crossing my fingers behind my back; or the other things I do when speaking untruthfully—I am happy. I know the rain does not discriminate between day or night and either will hold its own light and dark—but now, at this very moment, I feel like I am the sun. And I know in my heart, I will always look upon this time—not without a sense of melancholy—that it was the happiest in my life.
SOMETIMES I WANT TO LISTEN TO UNDERGROUND INDIE MUSIC AND WEAR FLOWER CROWNS TO FESTIVALS SOMETIMES I WANT TO WEAR ALL BLACK AND SCREAM ALONG TO LYRICS IN MOSH PITS SOMETIMES I WANT TO WEAR SHORT SHORTS AND JAM TO BUBBLEGUM POP WITH THE WINDOWS ROLLED DOWN SOMETIMES I WANT TO WEAR A LEATHER JACKET AND SMOKE A CIGARETTE WHILE LISTENING TO OLD ROCK
I have never had anything describe me more than this post does