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Post reblogged from Miss Lana-Banana
At any given moment, you do not exist. Your body exists, temporary though it may be. Still, you are not your body. You are merely an electrochemical process of your body. The continuity of your separate self is manufactured every few milliseconds by a hunk of warm grey meat between your ears. In the time it takes you to read this sentence, your brain has created you a thousand times, and it has left behind a thousand ghosts of you.
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How can we succeed in this world if the people that are suppose to teach us don’t even know what they’re doing? I mean I’m learning more and more outside of school then I am inside. Shouldn’t this be looked at shouldn’t I be learning the most I can if imdevoting 9 hours out of my life that I can’t get back sitting in a class forced to memorize facts then tested over those facts that I’ve memorized what is learned? I’m not taught to be creative but to follow instructions, there’s no originality everyone’s just a clone maybe that’s why I’m forced to be here to learn to fit into society, to learn the crooked history taught or maybe it’s to learn to do what’s told to you with out asking questions. Either way it doesn’t matter now who needs to succeed in this fucked up world anyway id rather live happy, poor, and free than miserable, rich, and constricted.
-Mvrs -
Aye, homegirl, let me holla at you. Let me make your acquaintance real quick. Allow me to see you in a different light than presented. See, I noticed your beautiful face and bright smile, but I’m trying to see if you’re ugly or if you’re even happy. I want to know if I can mess with you the long way even if you have a short temper. But I like that, you’re a firecracker. I know you light up my night, but are you the love of my life? I mean, I see you in the club, partying, but I’m trying to figure out if you’d rather be at home in your pajamas, sipping tea and reading. Sweetheart, I’m trying to learn whether or not you prefer to learn or teach. Baby, I don’t want to just talk to you, I want to hold a conversation. So you know what? Don’t let me holla at you, let me get to know you.
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Let us be clouds. Let us float freely, going with the flow of the earth we inhabit. Let us be quite heavy as a whole but still gently glide above everyone. Let us wield so much power, but move with elegance. Let us be present everywhere. Let us be a force to be reckoned with, but still admired for our beauty. Let us hold any shape and fill the imagination of people of all ages. Let us be drawn in any style but still be recognizable. Let us be clouds.
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Since I was younger, I was always told I’m going to be somebody. I believed them. But with age comes doubt, wisdom and knowledge. Because that, the goldmine I am dried up. Of course the precious metal within is still in there, but one must dig quite deep to get to it. And the mine is dark with abandoned mine carts. To get the gold, you must know where to dig. This is why only I can tap into my talent. You cannot take my gold from my mine unless I tell you where in the mine you must look. I am drained. I am tired. The goldmine is condemned.
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Have you ever watched the sky change color? From light blue to purple to orange to violet? Because there’s a certain point in time where if you look at the horizon, all the sky is one shade. The color varies from a pink to an orangish purple, but it’s the most beautiful color you could see. It’s a color that signifies peace. A color that signifies harmony. A harmony on the horizon.
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Jaw tightening. Mind racing with violent thoughts. Fists clenching with seismic power. Eyes bloodshot. Veins popping with rage. I sit in silent fury as the pressure in my mind and body raise with startling speed. Blood rushing through my angrily beating heart as I fight back virulent tears. Vivid visions of violence veer through my brain. So much anger built up inside me with nothing to tear it down. No way to release it. Nothing to console me. No one to stop my vicious urges. Nothing to stop me form going blank.
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They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Look through my windows. What do you see? Darkness? Sorrow? Pain? Low flying demons with tattered wings? Or do you see what I only want you see? For my eyes run a color that is near black. And to see in pitch black is to have sight based on instinct. My eyes do not show emotion, only a reflection of those who choose to look into them. While my eyes are the windows to my soul, they are broken and cracked. Hit with rocks of life and baseballs of hardship. On the window panes are the dead insects of my shot emotions. That’s why I keep my windows wide shut. I’d rather damage them than the house they peer into.
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Alone. Lonely. Two words with similar sounds yet totally different meanings. To be alone is to have no one there for you. To be lonely is to feel like there is no one there for you. Which sounds worse? Then what feels worse? To be in a bed alone or to miss someone while laying in bed thinking about them? To be in the middle of summer, yet feel so cold/ We’re always alone, but how often are we lonely? Does it come when you realize that no one truly cares? Or does it come when you recognize that one person that does really care? But is that person here? If so, splendid. If not, that’s life. Cold summers and even colder winters as a result of being lonely.
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I don’t wanna be that stereotypical nigga dropping outta high school to go chase after the music I mean I love it I do but I don’t wanna be known for that I can’t handle the drama that goes with that I wanna save lives butb guess I could do that like this it’s just not in me but maybe some day it will be damn I’m going crazy I can’t chose but whoever said this was gonna be easy was a god damn fool The Lord knows my dilemma he knows how I feel but ill be damned if ilet even him stop me from achieving what i know is real!vthe truth it has to be told how can I do that if I’m saving the lies of ass holes niggas that beat they wives shooting up drugs thinking its cool do I really wanna put myself through that mental state of mind nah im cool. I can’t handle It i tell you I swear to god if this world wasn’t built on money and fame I wouldn’t have such a hard trying to do the right thing.
-M v r s
