The suns coming in the window
Just like another summer morning
I wish I felt the same

Its like I'm almost free
Just one thread tying me back
When I turn around
In the doorway you stand.

We're always curious to find out who we've been compared to.

Illness.

Once in the hospital, I vowed to get better. Once out,
I knew I was my only hope to save myself. I worked hard, learned how to dream, found some dreams and followed them.
Sometimes I'm not sure I solved the problem the right way. I love what I'm doing but at the same time there have been plenty of factors screaming and shouting that I took the wrong path.
The more I try to fight the tide and stay afloat I remember how in my youth we were too poor to afford the swimming lessons that could one day save my life. This simple fact always reminds me that even though I have tried to control it, and I am alive today, that doesn't offer a certainty for tomorrow. I try and try to remain stable, but I am realizing that no matter how I try to stay sane by school activites or insulating myself from the world, the illness was never my choice. I keep reciting 'I chose to stay sane, I chose to live.'
Yea I didn't do the deed, but I'm not sure that really means I won't feel like shit later about what happened to me then and what happened to me now. I could easily become that depressed kid, and have no choice, no oppurtunity to change our fate.
We all want to believe that we have extreme control of our futures, especially in our youth. But we don't and we never will, but the point is we can't discount the hope we do have. They're are powers that if we let them, can strip us of the power we do hold. So lets vow to make a change we want, and don't hold still when some has the opportunity to move us around our own playing field. Hell, make the change to live.

It's over.

Sometimes there are things you just need to let go of. I've let go of a lot recently, in order to take more on.
I know I was never gonna make it in music. I think I have a good voice, but I know its forgettable. I let myself sing badly and out of tune in order to "keep my secret." How dumb. There are sometimes where I just wonder what could have happened. What if I had been able to do more then? Even this story is a secret. My voice is censored, and its stupid. I preach about no censorship, but yet I don't let on that I do these things. I've been building a bridge over a beautiful river for years. Even though the bridge is beautiful, so is what used to lie underneath.
The thought is making me shake. And as the waves in the old glasses on my desk get larger, I know I have to let this go. I have obliged to continue singing, playing guitar, and yes writing here. Maybe one day, I'll be featured on a song, or write a design book, or design a music cover. Maybe or maybe not. Even throwing these things under the bridge I am still way over my head.
I'm just a mess and I can't keep my hands out of anything, I always got to be involved in everything, learning everything I can. I'm now wondering if it was all just wasting my time.
I don't have a good option of what I would have done instead. In this moment of turbulence, I have no good options to make it end faster. I just have to wait until it's over.

Dreams.

During my evening nap, I had two dreams. One, that I had had a baby and the dream ended with me photoshopping the father out of a picture of the three of us. With the baby upright, back against my stomach in my arms, I was perfectly fine with out a man. The second had the interest of white century schoolbook on the background of flesh composited from my right lower back and left cheek. The way I woke up both these locations were on the same parallel as if I were twisting them towards the sun.

Home.

I think I finally found home. I feel so relieved to be there, and when away from it, my soul aches to return. Sitting down next to my roommate, the both of us in the same position, returning from our days. We have just what we need. I have no need to keep my guard up. In our agreements, no one had to back down and now we've finally got what we've always wanted.
Now, on this day, the fifth anniversary of my dad's death, I just can't wait to go home.

I'm beginning to think I'm the one breaking my own heart.