Monday, March 1, 2010

Too late for regrets


I didn't stand up for myself like I was sure I always would.

I caved. Caved sloppily and carelessly into the calloused hands of a despair I can't seem to put a name to. Some vapor form of a shadow that has trapped me in its subtle ensnarement. So subtle I can barely recognize it's there. But something's different.
I'm conscientious enough to sense those changes, to realize what is caused by my fickle moods and what is not.

It didn't seem like a big deal. To most people, it wouldn't be a big deal at all because it really isn't.

So then why is my stomach ripping itself to shreds?
Why do I feel like I'm coated in a layer of filthy grime that I can't wash off?

Why has my brain been whispering repeatedly into my ears, reminding me in my every waking second that I was nothing but


  1. have you seen requiem for a dream?

  2. I have not. It sounds like a really intense movie, though. Why do you ask?

  3. its ending struck me as one of the most profound images of despair that i've seen in film

    and yes, it is intense


Write me a song.