I don’t exactly know why I’m here, writing this.
There isn’t much purpose.
But I will write on.
I don’t exactly know why I want to pour out my feelings to the world, but I feel I must. There’s nothing else left. All the feelings and thoughts contained inside this old brain of mine have to come out. It’s impossible to contain such large and adventurous thoughts.
I will tell you immediately, I don’t care about the world knowing my name, however wonderful that sounds, I just want you to listen. Listen carefully my friends. Maybe you will learn a little from my faults and mishaps. The world is a dark place. Many hidden places, with hate packed away are only explored by a few, but those few are alone.
I always thought it beautiful to die, but much more beautiful to live. But there are different ways to live.
Everything in my heart is crying right now, not because something hurts me but because I know of all the people who hurt. But it breaks me even further knowing there’s nothing I can do about it. Father is poor, and whatever money he gets goes to the Streaming Bottles of Beer for Martin Hoff campaign. Martin Hoff…Father has such a beautiful name. I cannot believe he gave me such a wondrous name as Katrina. It flows so…smoothly, gliding almost.
I wish we had more money. Father has tried many things to get rid of the drinking problem, but nothing seems to work. His hopes of abandoning the liquor are very small on the scale of things. His life is hopeless. Whenever he goes upstairs, I fear I might never see him alive again, merely his body with bleeding wrists on the bathroom floor. Everyday is painful like that.
The sky was gorgeous today. The pink, gold and red colors all flung across the sky. The clouds stood puffed and mighty against the sun, like they had to challenge the ball of light. I love the silence of nature, the peace of it all. How many days I’ve wished I could just run away to the large grassy plane behind our house.
But life must go on.
Turn down the road that leads to disaster
Falling keep falling, a little bit faster
The peace of it all, buried in stories of old
Start to wonder if the world’s face has gone cold
There isn’t much purpose.
But I will write on.
I don’t exactly know why I want to pour out my feelings to the world, but I feel I must. There’s nothing else left. All the feelings and thoughts contained inside this old brain of mine have to come out. It’s impossible to contain such large and adventurous thoughts.
I will tell you immediately, I don’t care about the world knowing my name, however wonderful that sounds, I just want you to listen. Listen carefully my friends. Maybe you will learn a little from my faults and mishaps. The world is a dark place. Many hidden places, with hate packed away are only explored by a few, but those few are alone.
I always thought it beautiful to die, but much more beautiful to live. But there are different ways to live.
Everything in my heart is crying right now, not because something hurts me but because I know of all the people who hurt. But it breaks me even further knowing there’s nothing I can do about it. Father is poor, and whatever money he gets goes to the Streaming Bottles of Beer for Martin Hoff campaign. Martin Hoff…Father has such a beautiful name. I cannot believe he gave me such a wondrous name as Katrina. It flows so…smoothly, gliding almost.
I wish we had more money. Father has tried many things to get rid of the drinking problem, but nothing seems to work. His hopes of abandoning the liquor are very small on the scale of things. His life is hopeless. Whenever he goes upstairs, I fear I might never see him alive again, merely his body with bleeding wrists on the bathroom floor. Everyday is painful like that.
The sky was gorgeous today. The pink, gold and red colors all flung across the sky. The clouds stood puffed and mighty against the sun, like they had to challenge the ball of light. I love the silence of nature, the peace of it all. How many days I’ve wished I could just run away to the large grassy plane behind our house.
But life must go on.
Turn down the road that leads to disaster
Falling keep falling, a little bit faster
The peace of it all, buried in stories of old
Start to wonder if the world’s face has gone cold
No comments:
Post a Comment