Haunted

Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories they're haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye

Even with our fists held high
It never would've worked out right
We were never meant for do or die

I didn't want us to burn out
I didn't come here to hold you, now I can't stop

I want you to know that it doesn't matter
Where we take this road someone's gotta go
And I want you to know you couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on so I'm already gone

Looking at you makes it harder
But I know that you'll find another
That doesn't always make you want to cry

Started with a perfect kiss then we could feel the poison set in
Perfect couldn't keep this love alive
You know that I love you so, I love you enough to let you go

I want you to know that it doesn't matter
Where we take this road someone's gotta go
And I want you to know you couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on so I'm already gone

I'm already gone, already gone
You can't make it feel right when you know that it's wrong
I'm already gone, already gone
There's no moving on so I'm already gone

Already gone, already gone, already gone
Already gone, already gone, already gone, yeah

Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories they're haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye

I want you to know that it doesn't matter
Where we take this road someone's gotta go
And I want you to know you couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on so I'm already gone

I'm already gone, already gone
You can't make it feel right when you know that it's wrong
I'm already gone, already gone
There's no moving on so I'm already gone

Trailing

As we move, we leave bits and pieces behind. A smile, a frown, a laugh, some tears. These can all be left behind in our wake. 

What do you leave behind?

Invisible

I want to dance and not be invisible.

The trees are still and calm but I am moving and fluid.

I want to be red in a sea of green and brown.

I want...

I want.

Breathe

There is beauty all around us. Breathe it in.

Just breathe.

Great

I want to make a great speech. I want it to be moving and funny; inspiring but not preachy; and clever but still solemn. I want it to hit home. I want to convey so many things; I want to talk about struggle and triumph, life and love, and home and family. 

But all I can think of tonight is how I hate this oddly growing subculture that is developing all around me. I think we have become a generation of complainers. We glamorize pain and anger to the point where all we do is complain. We thrive on the attention; on the sympathy it brings. 

It is pathetic. Pathetic and stupid. Being happy is not due to circumstance; it is a conscious decision a person should make on a regular basis. 

There are times in our lives that will require great sadness and anger. A death of a loved one, a loss of a great human figure, a life-altering injury. But those things are, thankfully, very few and far between. We cast a shadow on the days that we have to be happy with passionate complaints over a mistaken drink order, a careless driver, or a trivial argument with a family member. We are choosing to miss out on the best days of our lives. We are choosing to ignore all we have because we would rather be angry or sad. We would rather the satisfying attention and sympathy gained from an idle complaint than to to truly enjoy the days we have here on this Earth.

We are wasting our lives. We are not so much letting each moment that could hold so much joy pass us by as we are forcing any joy we might feel out of hearts in order to find that one, small, faint shadow of a complaint that we can grab hold of and allow it to carry up through our day. A dreary, gloomy cloud we choose to be, because that is what will bring us the most attention.

Pathetic. Sad and unbelievably stupid. 

What great fools we have become.

[G Image search for Great}

Purple

Picked up my cap and gown today. Apparently purple is the color of jurisprudence. 

Who knew?

Lightning

May flowers are opening

And leaves unfolding free;

There are bees in every blossom

And birds on every tree.

The sun is gladly shining,

The stream sings merrily,

And I only am pining

And all is dark to me.

O cold, cold is my heart!

It will not, cannot rise;

It feels no sympathy 

With those refulgent skies.

Dead, deas is my joy,

I long to be at rest;

I wish the damp earth covered

This desolate breast.

If I were quite alone,

It might not be so drear,

When all hope was gone;

At least I could not fear.

But the glad eyes around me

Must weep as mine have done,

And I must see the same gloom

Eclipse their morning sun.

If heaven would rain on me

That future storm of care,

So their fond hearts were free

I'd be content to bear.

Alas! As lightning withers

The young and aged tree,

Both they and I shall fall beneath

The fate we cannot flee. 

{G Image search for Lightning}