nothing i write makes sense but i think the main concept of this one is rain

one of my favorite pastimes in this life is to chase after beautiful things — the thoughts that dwell in our minds. is it because i lack enough reasons to think of myself as beautiful? i pin the pieces of my heart on my sleeve to create more art — probably not the best way to cope. am i an artist? that’s funny. am i doing this right? nobody really knows, and i certainly don’t. i pick apart the layers of my favorite songs to find a reason to continue to get out of bed in the morning.

there’s something about the way two souls admire each other. it reminds me of each sunrise and sunset like maybe the reason as to why we continue to withstand this pain can be found in the way the sky and sun collide with one another. or the rain and clouds. or the moon and stars. it’s all in retrospect. like maybe the flowers growing in between the cracks of the sidewalks resemble the scars of who we used to be. how many raging thoughts can be lulled by quiet rain? personally, my thoughts explode listening to rain hit the windowsill at midnight. it’s the most calming sound to me. i think too much sometimes that it gets in the way of writing something that actually makes sense. and i can’t remember a time when my thinking didn’t get in the way my romantic endeavors. i think about it. i say it. it ruins the moment. oh shit, how do i come back from this? why can’t i ever get it right? no, it’s not me. it’s them. but wait, it actually is me. i have been spilling myself for far too long now that when rain hits my window at midnight, i wonder if you’ll be reading. waiting. or listening — for me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s