old enough to die

if you just get through tonight, you'll make it to the morning
and if you just get through tomorrow, you can make it through the week
and you get through that, well, who knows how far you'll go
and maybe someday you'll even live long enough to die

so what are you doing?
what are you living for?
is anything you do gonna matter when you're gone?

maybe someday I'll have enough in me to try
maybe someday I'll care enough to make me cry
maybe someday I'll be living in the sky
maybe someday I'll be old enough to die

i don't feel pain

I don't feel pain. 
My heart is as cold and hard as a stone. 
My face is constantly expressionless; a look of pure intensity. 
I am strong. 
I am tough. 
I can do just about anything I put my mind to. 
I don't have any friends, but I don't need any. 
I'm fine by myself--I'm strong enough on my own. 
I don't have feelings, but I don't want them. 
They are just a sign of weakness, which is the one thing I am not. 
I don't feel pain, either. 
Actually, I don't feel anything. 
Not after what you did to me. 
You hurt me so bad that now nothing hurts. 
I felt so many horrible things because of you, so now I can't feel anything. 
I'm completely numb. 
And I tell myself that's a good thing. 
Now I can never be hurt again like you hurt me. 
I don't need anyone, and I'm completely self-sufficient. 
But the only problem is, I can't feel anything. 
Not only can I not feel the bad things like pain, I can't feel the good things like love. 
I haven't felt happiness, love, joy, or any other emotion after what you did to me. 
So is it worth it? 
Is being numb to the pain worth being numb to the love? 
I don't know. 
And maybe I'm wrong to convince myself otherwise. 
Maybe feeling pain is better than not feeling anything. 

what about us?

They say that you're free to be whatever you want,

but what about the rest of us?

Us who have someone else's

hopes, wishes, and dreams

riding on our backs?

Which crush us like the weight of the whole world

upon our shoulders.

Pressure To Do.

To Be.

To carry out someone else's plan for our lives.

What about us?

 

Well, technically we can be what we want to be.

But we never will.

Because we do what we need to fulfill someone else's dreams.

And we live with these choices,

never truly happy with ourselves.

We feel cheated;

We feel lied to;

because we will never be who we so desperately want to be

even though we had the chance.

 

Either that or we keep on

going,

going,

going,

until the pressure

squishes us

like

ants.

passion and anger

Can you be passionate....without anger?

It seems like whenever somebody is passionate about something, there is some kind of enemy or evil to go up against.  Or something you anger you to call you to action.  Has someone ever been passionate about a cause without at least a little anger?

Maybe we only call ourselves "passionate" because "angry belligerent freaks" just doesn't sound as nice.

the tragedy of time

The Tragedy of the Constance of Time: You Can't Change the Past

On and on, never ending,
Straight line, never bending,
Only forward, no reverse,
Not a blessing, but a curse.

'Cause in this life there's no re-try.
Full steam ahead until you die.
You can't take back the things you've done,
Just run the race until you've won.

Time can't be paused nor be rewound.
It doesn't even once slow down. 
With every second time does burn,
It's past the point of no return.

Oh Time! It's such a tragedy!
For in this life they'll always be
Mistakes, regrets, things from the past
We can't take back--time moves too fast.

Time's unable to forgive;
Oh, what a cruel, hard way to live,
Because of one depressing fact:
Because of time, you can't go back.