sometimes it’s nice to just sit back and let the story of your life play itself out. no judgment, no reserve, no fear, no questions - it just is. and perfectly so.
show me, but also tell me. the power of putting words into existence is incomparable. words make it real.
“ In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. ”
ralph waldo emerson
“ Man is his own star; and the soul that can
Render an honest and a perfect man,
Commands all light, all influence, all fate;
Nothing to him falls early or too late.
Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still. ”
Epilogue to Beaumont and Fletcher’s Honest Man’s Fortune
invest in yourself. time, money, energy, care, compassion. always always. the things, activities, and people we invest in aren’t the same as the mind, body, and spirit we live inside of each and every single day.
man. the tricks our minds play. damn damn damn. one little switch and the same world isn’t the same in our brain. and thus, perception is reality. my perception needs to fall back and chill for a minute.
the only thing is threatening you, you, you is you
funkin up yourself
super-ego has gained control of you, you you you
now you can’t be you, foolish you
you can’t be you, now what you gonna do
people of the third rock from the sun
you can’t be you
people of the third rock from the sun
it’s lying there before you, but you can’t see
that love is the key, how y’all seem to be confused
but can i talk to you?
the creator is getting impatient with you, you you you
now it’s time to pay your dues, yeah yeah
bruno mars ever think about not being such a bitch with his songwriting (assuming he does he songwriting)?
shit is pathetically fatalistic. really? your life is actually over? you just died? again? damn, son. like, at least adele has some storyline and depth to her eternally devastating lyrics. seriously, bro.
and i’m mad that shit is catchy as hell, too. i’m sitting there thinking i’m singing a happy song at the top of my lungs.
[the agitated thoughts from an unwillful awake]
