hope and hope and hopelessness
hope and hope and hopelessness it’s hot outside it’s been hot for a while and I’m trying to imagine a future five years from now prices are high they’ve been high for a while and it feels like the prelude to a textbook saying this is where we went wrong where we went wrong excerpts from a song I may never finish - Atlas
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I am a small fish
who has left for a small pond and for just a moment my best is good enough hmm hmm~ - Atlas & I don't think I'll ever
fill a stadium with the people who'd want to hear the songs inside my heart but there is still something I can do some difference I can make with my words, I think. not really sure where this poem went but it sure did go there - Atlas I think I am becoming
the Atlas of my heart-- on some days, I am called upon to lift the sky on others, I am the light that must guide the way, the guide through treacherous lands to hallowed ground. most days, these days, it feels as though I am called to do both. idk if this makes sense - Atlas I don't know,
I guess I expected to feel lighter after talking to you, like I usually do. but you are lost in your head. sometimes I feel like you have been for a while. you are responding to shadows cast upon a wall, mirages, not the person in front of you. and I understand, I do. I have done this myself, perhaps I even did it tonight. I suppose that is the price of vulnerability-- sometimes through no fault of yours or theirs, things cannot be what you need them to be. and you still have to find a way to live, forgive, and move on - Atlas and now I am home again
home, again it is everything I knew it to be, everything I expected but also not the ghost of the familiar, of everything that once-was and could-have-been - Atlas my hands feel softer now.
it's funny how such a simple step can make such a difference, how a memory seeps into the present. this probably makes absolutely no sense to you (I wonder if it will even make sense to my future self?) - Atlas I don’t know,
I guess I just thought I would be better than this right now. maybe not even perfect, but better-- but there’s always a “better”. I suppose what I have to do, continually, is decide whether that thought will bring me hope or despair. hmm hmm - Atlas did I leave this place
better than I found it? or was I so afraid of making a mistake that I left no imprints here at all, that the sidewalks forgot me as I walked over them, that books forgot me as I closed them, that you never even noticed me enough to forget. a sad poem, and not one I really believe, but sometimes I ask myself the first question and the answer is "no" and... yeah - Atlas when I was younger,
I would always assume this slight air of superiority when we talked about people who went looking for gold at the end of a rainbow. How silly! They don’t know it’s an illusion, that it moves away more the closer you get. In completely unrelated news, I cannot quite seem to figure out why I never feel good enough-- anyway what was I saying - Atlas |
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