Hard to get inspired within these walls.I'm not sure why.I guess there is a lot of sadness and stifling in here.I want to break all of my family members out of their ruts.I don't want to be a saviour, I just want to save them.Make them see, I don't know.Worried about momda.Family jokes and sibling whispers, but goddammit it's serious.I don't know, how to make them see.
Odd visitors these days, and doing very young things. On again off again Asian perplexes me. Him too, I want to be happy. But I can't possibly be the one to provide that. The funny thing about all (not all most) of this nostalgia: My connector spots no longer function the same. The reciever spots don't allow me to grasp onto the old times and relive them again and again. I'm different and though I would urbanX in a heart beat, I no longer feel the same sitting with him talking about life. I know he doesn't like the sounds of my sighs, but he looks so tired. I like him best when he's doing the things that take him the most effort. Because it's easy to smoke up and lay down, I can't accept that noise because I've seen his heart. Remember, "people lead enchanted lives?" I think he has forgotten.
but oh when that kid puts pen to paper, pick to string ...
And wiseone I expected our hearts to be misaligned and though on the surface it looks as though they may be, I feel like he hasn't given up the up the good fight. The person who sparked my fire, is sparking some more of his own. I'm so proud. What to do with such a revelation? Yell and scream? Speak in unmediated shades of dissent? I will try and try and try some more. I will be inspired and brave even if the people I want to believe in me don't.
My perpetual optimism is too much for some.
I don't want people to be constantly afraid of disappointing me. It's a part of my life too. Much of the world is founded on idealism. It is kept intact by humanists and lovers and sympathizers. It will always be a constant struggle, a tangle. Today my father told me he doesn't want me to settle for a job that doesn't make less than X amount of money. He doesn't want my schooling to go to waste.
My papi, the main reason I even considered college. Wanting to make him proud. Choosing a field I know would make alot of money. A small regret. Not for me, I don't care about money. He doesn't care about money, but he knows it signifies a certain level of success. He knows he must feed his family. I smiled even though my insides were knotting. Daddy, my heart won't allow me to do those bull-shit jobs that make me boat loads of money. But I promised him that my education wouldn't go to waste and that whateverI'd do would be worth it. I think he understands.
Life is a constant adjustment. Once I think I've got it all figured out, gee almighty, everything changes on me. I change on me and some of you stay the same or is it that we're all changing at different rates and proportions. How completely hard it is to find someone anyone who you can relate too. Really relate to, and once you do you hope that they can relate back and that they'll hold your precious relations soft and then hard again in the palm of their hands.
Hell, I don't know what I'm doing, but I do know how I feel about warm nights and good books, shattered moon particles and well water, ideals and tofu, trees and sultry glances. Mr. Morose told me I just need to let go and trust, that it's the best feeling in the world if you let it.
Today I'm going to start trusting, and perhaps tomorrow I'll spark a fire.