|Colors and images.|
Sums it up.
letter to a psych somewhereafter my mother told me i would be getting a shrink, i daydreamed of all the things i would tell you about myself, how i am sometimes irreparably lonely and how on long car trips i sometimes stay awake for periods of time training my eyes to be unfocused over the white lines on interstate highways, or i sleep with my feet tucked underneath the floorboard carpets, or i read kurt vonnegut novels. after my mother told me she wanted me to talk to someone, i panicked.letter to a psych somewhere by anyimacielgray
here are some things you should know about me: i memorise poetry for fun. i would have an entire vonnegut novel engraved on my tombstone if it would fit. i am good at lying to other people and i am exceptional at lying to myself. i can talk myself out of love.
i want everyone to know that i am fine. fine is my favourite lie.
my hands are freezing. i always have to wear jackets.
i unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed into the back of the car to rescue my laptop when i knew i had to write this down and
My brain was formed when music notes were smashed into a bowl, colored on with crayons and sprinkled with rain.|
I breathe because I love living and also cause its involuntary.
People are all interesting even if they aren't. They are interesting because we all live our own lives no one knows everything about except that one person. They are uninteresting because no one wants to color outside the lines.
I like photography. I like to create images that explode in my head so people can see a bit what my inside looks like. Art is meant to be beautiful. Art is meant to be different. Art is meant to be outside the lines. Society just wants to keep it a secret.
I like music. I can't listen to you if a song is playing. I will be happy or sad or angry depending on the song no matter what. Everything else is irrelevent.
I'm irrational. Illogical. There is no reason for reason anyways. I'm happy jumping in leaves, laying down in the middle of the hallway, and singing loudly with the juke box in Waffle House.
I never understood how people always loved the outcast in movies, or the one character who was different, but in real life people who are different are looked down upon, talked about, and ignored because no one knows what to do or say.
I accept you.
I want to make me better.
People are all so fragile and beautiful in their own way.
Tell me anything.
No matter how bad it gets, its not so bad.
Cause I get to be me
and you get to be you.