my heart hurts my heart hurts my heart hurts
if i say it often enough it might start to mean nothing and purge itself from me. if i claim everything that happened was just 'growing up' -- will that stop it hurting, whether it's the truth or not? don't words have power? even when they're not true. just because they're said. 'because i said so', right? if i say something will staunch the wound, the power of words might make that a little bit truthful. and you can run with just a little bit, can't you? give an inch, take a mile. that's life, isn't it? the weakest go to the wall; do not be weak. choose strength. choose life. choose a big fucking television.
"but why would i want to do a thing like that?"
maybe i can force myself to grow up and catch up with everyone else and be normal.
maybe it's a spell. whisper the magic words. change things.
but what am i changing? now? the past, or the future?
this is all nonsense, fuelled by anxiety. i know that. maybe that's power on its own, too, knowing that. know what's what. maybe you have power over a thing by understanding what it is and what it's causing. or, at least, the ability to put it in its place. before it puts you in yours.
maybe, in the end...it's all just maya anyway, and the most precious and important thing is the breath you draw in, now.
maybe the best thing to do with dark or painful moments is to just let them pass. they have no less or more staying power than any other moment in life.
aiming for summer. wishing through springtime. bloom like a jacaranda; all things are ephemeral.
there's sorrow in that, yes, 'the pathos of things', but there's comfort there, too.