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Meeting Between Myself, My Brain And My Heart.
16 years ago
Don't dream too far
Don't lose sight of who you are
Don't remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl
Ev'ry so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in
Blithe smile, lithe limb
She is winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl
That's the girl he chose
And Heaven knows
I'm not that girl:
Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl
I know, the song perspectives are not right gender-wise. I didn't write the song.
Shut up, heart. For the love of God, shut up. I drew the art you made me draw. I wrote the words you made me write. You and my brain have banded together to gang up on me. I've done everything you guys want, why can't you be nice?
I can be patient, why can't you? Why can't you leave me alone for a while?
I'm going to make some things now, to fill the time. Will that satisfy you two for a while?
Hey, guys. I was wondering. How can you two scream at me so much and still feel so absent? And have you cauterised the holes you left so they can't mend and grow again? That was a pretty dick thing to do, you know. Making me keep thinking about the same subject over and over.
I think it's time we had a chat, fellas. You shouldn't be treating me like this. You've made things perfectly clear, I know I was wrong and I'm doing everything I can to fix things.
No, I can't do anything more. Because that would border on really uncool behavior, don't you think? Any more than emails and occasional messenger discourse? That's what I thought. Glad you agree with me, brain. You're a schizophrenic son of a bitch, though, I wish you'd be more clear on what you expect me to do.
Not like that heart, though. The heart's a retard. Probably a sadomasochist, too, that's why it keeps hurting itself to hurt me.
Look, guys. We can't do anything more. I've done what I can, now we all have to wait. So shut the fuck up, won't ya? Come on, work with me here for once.
Brain, can you give me a hand with these fursuit heads? Thanks, man. See, you're not such a bad guy when you try.
Don't lose sight of who you are
Don't remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl
Ev'ry so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in
Blithe smile, lithe limb
She is winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl
That's the girl he chose
And Heaven knows
I'm not that girl:
Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl
I know, the song perspectives are not right gender-wise. I didn't write the song.
Shut up, heart. For the love of God, shut up. I drew the art you made me draw. I wrote the words you made me write. You and my brain have banded together to gang up on me. I've done everything you guys want, why can't you be nice?
I can be patient, why can't you? Why can't you leave me alone for a while?
I'm going to make some things now, to fill the time. Will that satisfy you two for a while?
Hey, guys. I was wondering. How can you two scream at me so much and still feel so absent? And have you cauterised the holes you left so they can't mend and grow again? That was a pretty dick thing to do, you know. Making me keep thinking about the same subject over and over.
I think it's time we had a chat, fellas. You shouldn't be treating me like this. You've made things perfectly clear, I know I was wrong and I'm doing everything I can to fix things.
No, I can't do anything more. Because that would border on really uncool behavior, don't you think? Any more than emails and occasional messenger discourse? That's what I thought. Glad you agree with me, brain. You're a schizophrenic son of a bitch, though, I wish you'd be more clear on what you expect me to do.
Not like that heart, though. The heart's a retard. Probably a sadomasochist, too, that's why it keeps hurting itself to hurt me.
Look, guys. We can't do anything more. I've done what I can, now we all have to wait. So shut the fuck up, won't ya? Come on, work with me here for once.
Brain, can you give me a hand with these fursuit heads? Thanks, man. See, you're not such a bad guy when you try.
tinderbones
Sarcosis_Machina
~sarcosismachina
I learned the hard way that trying to rationalize emotions and cognitive thaught into one consious stream of expression is unhealthy for people to do with the wrong company. I highly recommend putting up mental safegaurds in the form of neuropathic sticky notes and emotional roadblocks. they work wonders for me.... especially when i see a sticky note with the word "fuck." written on it down a mental one way ally.
