eden.side-project.net

it is the same recurring dream. if you can call it one.

a big place with windows, but no doors. french windows, they reach the highest of ceilings. pretty, but not friendly. all locked and impervious to my escape. i am crouched in a corner with knees pulled up to my chin, my hands hugging them close. what i'm thinking of, what i'm waiting for, what i'm hoping for, i cannot tell. i can only recognise the heaviness in my heart and frustration burning in my eyes.

don't return me some abstract shit like 'the key is God'. God is good, but He has left me with many problems to solve. and it's not like he left a book of sudoku on my doorstep or sth. they're not issues i can solve through just putting in time and effort alone. it just takes something more. and i have no idea what this certain thing is. i must find it, find this thing that is keeping me from stepping out of this sick horrid place.

do i murder us
putting pavement in my veins
shooting it in, special heroin
for the seeking and displaced

but tension is to be loved
when it is like a passing note
to a beautiful, beautiful chord
--tension (is a passing note); sixpence none the richer

i chanced upon a picture and thought about you, and i wanted so much to be yours. then i realised that i already was and that i love you more than ever.

oh hello.

stasis please.