Citrus Novii is bored, and has old things on her deviantART that never made it anywhere else. She would like opinions on them,
> GRAMATICAL CORRECTIONS DO NOT NEED TO BE MENTIONED. ALL ERRORS WERE PROBABLY MADE ON PURPOSE FOR EFFECT.
> SPELLING ERRORS DO NOT NEED TO MENTIONED, AS NOVII IS A TERRIBLE SPELLER AND NOTHING WILL EVER CHANGE THAT. LAWL. P:
Everyone's Been Here
This is going to be cliche, forgive me, but the words are just coming forwards and I can't really stop them. I have a lot to say, and I guess infinite space, but I'm going to smash my voice down into the cracks into the cement, and try not to take up too much of your precious time. This is a mixture of words, and things that I've seen taken straight from my journal, the black book where my universe and soul are plastered across black walls and white canvas'.
It's been a long time since I've said something, it's been a long time since I've looked at myself in the morning, and sang into my reflection songs of love and great self worth. It's been a long time since I've been this happy, since I've been this, involved with my heart and my mind. Really, I guess in a way, it's all scary, and despite that I've been here before, it's still terribly new, and I'm not sure how to move in it. Now that I've said what I feel, and now that we're almost two months into this thing we're building, I think it's safe to say it out loud, that from friendship, spawned an affection, and that affection has exploded into a shade of red so beautiful, even the setting sun would be jealous of the shade.
I guess that many would call that feeling love, but many more would call it lust. However, I'm more than sure that neither of these things apply here, it's too foreign to categorize it, it's too, different for me to explain with my fingers and my tongue. The two things, the admirable and the sinful, have merged together before my eyes, on the very tip of my nose, bleaching my skin pure, purging my heart blue, spinning my mind around in circles so tight and speedy, that my bones can't match the pace. They're cracking underneath the centrifuge's pressure, and what's disgusting of that, is how much I like it, how much I don't want it to stop.
This nonsense coming from my heart, here upon the white of a word-pad document, trying almost desperately to convince someone in the world that I'm not completely insane, that these feelings are natural and pure. Not induced by some drug, that this is a benefit of humanity, that this is what it truly feels like to be grounded, but flying, mortal, but untouchable.
Mortality, there's a root we can sink our fangs into. It's been a constant theme in my writings since I first started, and even when a subject doesn't seem to be leading anywhere to the idea that if we all jump off of a bridge, we will all die, it's always implied somewhere in the imagery of bleeding lips, and skin being caught and torn from the flesh by turning gears. So, tell me where it went, because despite that it's a constant theme, I feel like, I feel that, there's something in these emotions of mine, this love, mortality has met it's immortal match. A contradiction so great and fantastic, gleaming with such a hue, that the most precious stones and the most beautiful eyes of the Gods would even be jealous.
The Gods, well, God, as there was only one when this entire thing started. Slight and stocky, with a gaze hard as rocks and only able to understand when told how to understand. Does it make me sinful to call that boy such, even if that was what he was to me for such a long time, always standing under my chin, vowing to protect me, when really, I was protecting myself the entire time? Does it make me stupid to have fallen into that trap anyway? Does it, does it make me brave to say that I broke away from him for the better of both of us? The answer could be yes, and it could be no, or so I'd guess. Either way it's twisted, when I angered that God, I banished him from my sky, perhaps never to be seen again, to be lost somewhere underneath the ice and snow of his heart, homeland.
Now that I can look back on those three winter's we spent together as a unit, I understand how unhappiness touched both of us frequently, and that it all should have stopped long before our 'love' matured into something physical and breakable. In a way, that physical touch was all it was ever really about, that's all we were, even when apart, just two bodies clinking together either by text or by call, desperate to make a different to someone else, since we had both been so rejected by the rest of the outside world. We made each other, healed each other, so naturally, I had to burn down the bridges when I felt that I was being non-genuine, when I felt that I had sinned against that entity. I had to let him go, I had to anger him, I had to let him hate me. It's always much easier that way, to play the bad guy, while playing the hero.
I'd guess that I'm melodramatic, I'm not wrong, I know it. I'd also guess that I'm selfish, but everyone is to some degree. Even the most selfless man or woman would toss their dog at a bear to save their own flesh, wouldn't they? Isn't that what survival tells us? Or have I been so jaded by infomercials and my own sense of self worth that I've lost sight of what selfless and selfish really mean?
Despite those thoughts (yes, I am casting them away abruptly and long before their time of maturity), whether I was being selfish or selfless, or maybe a strange and disgusting combination of the two things, they earned me the happiness and the place in the new man's heart. The new, but old man who I've watched across classrooms and dance floors for so long, and it has been a long time. 730 days of waiting and watching, wanting to touch and kiss but afraid to be pushed away, it was all not in vain, because, well, I have him now.
He's mine to hold, it's the way of selfless-selfish survival.
It's been a long time since I've said something, it's been a long time since I've looked at myself in the morning, and sang into my reflection songs of love and great self worth. It's been a long time since I've been this happy, since I've been this, involved with my heart and my mind. Really, I guess in a way, it's all scary, and despite that I've been here before, it's still terribly new, and I'm not sure how to move in it. Now that I've said what I feel, and now that we're almost two months into this thing we're building, I think it's safe to say it out loud, that from friendship, spawned an affection, and that affection has exploded into a shade of red so beautiful, even the setting sun would be jealous of the shade.
I guess that many would call that feeling love, but many more would call it lust. However, I'm more than sure that neither of these things apply here, it's too foreign to categorize it, it's too, different for me to explain with my fingers and my tongue. The two things, the admirable and the sinful, have merged together before my eyes, on the very tip of my nose, bleaching my skin pure, purging my heart blue, spinning my mind around in circles so tight and speedy, that my bones can't match the pace. They're cracking underneath the centrifuge's pressure, and what's disgusting of that, is how much I like it, how much I don't want it to stop.
This nonsense coming from my heart, here upon the white of a word-pad document, trying almost desperately to convince someone in the world that I'm not completely insane, that these feelings are natural and pure. Not induced by some drug, that this is a benefit of humanity, that this is what it truly feels like to be grounded, but flying, mortal, but untouchable.
Mortality, there's a root we can sink our fangs into. It's been a constant theme in my writings since I first started, and even when a subject doesn't seem to be leading anywhere to the idea that if we all jump off of a bridge, we will all die, it's always implied somewhere in the imagery of bleeding lips, and skin being caught and torn from the flesh by turning gears. So, tell me where it went, because despite that it's a constant theme, I feel like, I feel that, there's something in these emotions of mine, this love, mortality has met it's immortal match. A contradiction so great and fantastic, gleaming with such a hue, that the most precious stones and the most beautiful eyes of the Gods would even be jealous.
The Gods, well, God, as there was only one when this entire thing started. Slight and stocky, with a gaze hard as rocks and only able to understand when told how to understand. Does it make me sinful to call that boy such, even if that was what he was to me for such a long time, always standing under my chin, vowing to protect me, when really, I was protecting myself the entire time? Does it make me stupid to have fallen into that trap anyway? Does it, does it make me brave to say that I broke away from him for the better of both of us? The answer could be yes, and it could be no, or so I'd guess. Either way it's twisted, when I angered that God, I banished him from my sky, perhaps never to be seen again, to be lost somewhere underneath the ice and snow of his heart, homeland.
Now that I can look back on those three winter's we spent together as a unit, I understand how unhappiness touched both of us frequently, and that it all should have stopped long before our 'love' matured into something physical and breakable. In a way, that physical touch was all it was ever really about, that's all we were, even when apart, just two bodies clinking together either by text or by call, desperate to make a different to someone else, since we had both been so rejected by the rest of the outside world. We made each other, healed each other, so naturally, I had to burn down the bridges when I felt that I was being non-genuine, when I felt that I had sinned against that entity. I had to let him go, I had to anger him, I had to let him hate me. It's always much easier that way, to play the bad guy, while playing the hero.
I'd guess that I'm melodramatic, I'm not wrong, I know it. I'd also guess that I'm selfish, but everyone is to some degree. Even the most selfless man or woman would toss their dog at a bear to save their own flesh, wouldn't they? Isn't that what survival tells us? Or have I been so jaded by infomercials and my own sense of self worth that I've lost sight of what selfless and selfish really mean?
Despite those thoughts (yes, I am casting them away abruptly and long before their time of maturity), whether I was being selfish or selfless, or maybe a strange and disgusting combination of the two things, they earned me the happiness and the place in the new man's heart. The new, but old man who I've watched across classrooms and dance floors for so long, and it has been a long time. 730 days of waiting and watching, wanting to touch and kiss but afraid to be pushed away, it was all not in vain, because, well, I have him now.
He's mine to hold, it's the way of selfless-selfish survival.
