I hate your optimistic attitude.
I hate that you find a silver lining in everything that goes wrong.
I hate your hopeful smiles, and comforting hugs.
I hate your belief in something better.
I hate how you think that everything can change.
And yet I need those things.
I hate you.
And yet I love you.
I hate it all because I am jealous of the way I used to be.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Friday, October 14, 2011
For Her
I wasn't there when I should have been. I should seen her morning smiles, her tired yawns, her brave face against the future. I should have held her tight when she was scared and brandished swords with her against invisible enemies. I should be able to remember her face without having to think.
I didn't know her as well as I should have. I should have asked about her favourite songs, her best friends, her biggest dreams. I should have listened to her problems, no matter what they were and given the advice I was able to give. I should have been her friend as well as her cousin.
I didn't help as much as I should have. I should have sent money, sent more prayers, sent letters everyday with my supporting love. I should have finished the thousand papers cranes to wish for a miracle. I should have brought the entire world to her cause.
I couldn't have been there. I couldn't know her as well as that. I couldn't have done everything. But I should have.
I didn't know her as well as I should have. I should have asked about her favourite songs, her best friends, her biggest dreams. I should have listened to her problems, no matter what they were and given the advice I was able to give. I should have been her friend as well as her cousin.
I didn't help as much as I should have. I should have sent money, sent more prayers, sent letters everyday with my supporting love. I should have finished the thousand papers cranes to wish for a miracle. I should have brought the entire world to her cause.
I couldn't have been there. I couldn't know her as well as that. I couldn't have done everything. But I should have.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Paper Life
There are many books sitting on shelves across the world who will never be read. There are many other books who will forever be kept close, read by many people and many times by each person.
How marvelous are the books who are forever being opened and passed on, who sit by bedsides and are the very inspiration for the lives of others. These books may never have a day to rest, but are overjoyed to be so important to the world. Their spines may be broken, dust covers lost, pages torn, and corners dog-eared. They may be covered in dirt from the places they are dragged, scribbled with writing, rebound, and faded. But these books know they are loved.
How pitiful are the books who are left untouched. They sit waiting to be opened and their souls uncovered. The keeper may not recognize the title, or these stories may not yet even have keepers. They are left unread to gather dust and impress shallow humans, alone for the rest of their existence. Some of the well-known ones or the young ones may have a future in a well-read home, but for the others there is no future except a deadly pulp mill.
The more daring books may venture to sit in a bookstore and try to be bought by an individual human. Those whose are fortunate enough to be bought usually end up content in a small library of a single home; a more glamorous existence. The others are sent to be mulched or pulped, living only a short life of reckless hope.
The more cautious would choose to be part of a library. There, there is plenty of company, but no permanent owner or permanent home. Many temporary keepers are abusive, others are careful and respectful, and the books never know when they will be returned to their home. It is more dependable to be content than a bookstore, but more humble of an existence.
An electronic book in the eyes of a paper one is a robot. There is no tangible soul to an e-book. The words may mean just as much and have souls themselves, but there is nothing to hold them together. It can be copied into a new one that is exactly the same. It's existence is merely a fleeting moment of bliss, then nothing at all.
What kind of book am I?
How marvelous are the books who are forever being opened and passed on, who sit by bedsides and are the very inspiration for the lives of others. These books may never have a day to rest, but are overjoyed to be so important to the world. Their spines may be broken, dust covers lost, pages torn, and corners dog-eared. They may be covered in dirt from the places they are dragged, scribbled with writing, rebound, and faded. But these books know they are loved.
How pitiful are the books who are left untouched. They sit waiting to be opened and their souls uncovered. The keeper may not recognize the title, or these stories may not yet even have keepers. They are left unread to gather dust and impress shallow humans, alone for the rest of their existence. Some of the well-known ones or the young ones may have a future in a well-read home, but for the others there is no future except a deadly pulp mill.
The more daring books may venture to sit in a bookstore and try to be bought by an individual human. Those whose are fortunate enough to be bought usually end up content in a small library of a single home; a more glamorous existence. The others are sent to be mulched or pulped, living only a short life of reckless hope.
The more cautious would choose to be part of a library. There, there is plenty of company, but no permanent owner or permanent home. Many temporary keepers are abusive, others are careful and respectful, and the books never know when they will be returned to their home. It is more dependable to be content than a bookstore, but more humble of an existence.
An electronic book in the eyes of a paper one is a robot. There is no tangible soul to an e-book. The words may mean just as much and have souls themselves, but there is nothing to hold them together. It can be copied into a new one that is exactly the same. It's existence is merely a fleeting moment of bliss, then nothing at all.
What kind of book am I?
Sunday, October 2, 2011
When?
When will I cross into tomorrow?
When is no longer today?
Where is the border of time to the future?
When will I stop being a child?
When will I be and the adult I was promised?
Who decides if I am old enough to be my own keeper?
When will I find that special someone?
When will I no longer be alone?
What will tell me if we are meant to be like all the stories of love?
When will I find my reason for living?
When will I know why I'm alive?
Why is it that no one has the answers to life?
When is no longer today?
Where is the border of time to the future?
When will I stop being a child?
When will I be and the adult I was promised?
Who decides if I am old enough to be my own keeper?
When will I find that special someone?
When will I no longer be alone?
What will tell me if we are meant to be like all the stories of love?
When will I find my reason for living?
When will I know why I'm alive?
Why is it that no one has the answers to life?
Friday, May 6, 2011
Do You Know?
Can you hear my voice when I'm calling?
Can you see my eyes when I'm crying?
Can you tell that I am wanting to run strait to you?
Do you know that I am watching?
Do you feel that I am waiting?
Do you care that I am always there, taking care of you?
When will you understand?
When will you know my call?
Will you someday know the care that I have given to only you?
Can you see my eyes when I'm crying?
Can you tell that I am wanting to run strait to you?
Do you know that I am watching?
Do you feel that I am waiting?
Do you care that I am always there, taking care of you?
When will you understand?
When will you know my call?
Will you someday know the care that I have given to only you?
Monday, April 25, 2011
My Many Lives
Sometimes I don't like the real world. I'd rather escape to somewhere else.
I would rather be a dragon rider, sharing my journey with my mythical-beast friend. I would learn the spell-casting languages of the naturally born spell casters. I would practice my sword fighting and become the best sword master in all the land. I would fly beyond the known with my dragon companion, taking on new adventures with my newly honed combat skills.
I would rather be a star-fleet officer, trailblazing a path through the unknown reaches of space. I would encounter new peoples and create diplomatic relations between races with whom we were enemies before. Nothing would stand in my way of unifying and learning about the universe. Anyone who would try I would gladly take as a new challenge.
I would rather be a small-town girl who meets the boy of her dreams. I would chase after him with all my might and only hope he would realize my existence. He would somehow find that I am the girl of his dreams, and together we would face many trials. Against all odds, our love would somehow succeed. Our trials would inspire our grandchildren and foster many more love stories to come.
The many stories and tales I would love to live will never be mine, but I am happy to live them, if only while the story is being told.
I would rather be a dragon rider, sharing my journey with my mythical-beast friend. I would learn the spell-casting languages of the naturally born spell casters. I would practice my sword fighting and become the best sword master in all the land. I would fly beyond the known with my dragon companion, taking on new adventures with my newly honed combat skills.
I would rather be a star-fleet officer, trailblazing a path through the unknown reaches of space. I would encounter new peoples and create diplomatic relations between races with whom we were enemies before. Nothing would stand in my way of unifying and learning about the universe. Anyone who would try I would gladly take as a new challenge.
I would rather be a small-town girl who meets the boy of her dreams. I would chase after him with all my might and only hope he would realize my existence. He would somehow find that I am the girl of his dreams, and together we would face many trials. Against all odds, our love would somehow succeed. Our trials would inspire our grandchildren and foster many more love stories to come.
The many stories and tales I would love to live will never be mine, but I am happy to live them, if only while the story is being told.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Those We Miss
Many were so sorely missed
Many are now sadly missed
Many will someday be missed
How horrible is the one who takes them
How wonderful the one who creates them
How passionate the one who loves them
If they could decide would they decide well?
If I could be in control would I control well?
If you could choose would you choose well?
Many were so joyously living
Many are so amazingly living
Many will be so wondrously be living
Love the life that they will have
Love the life that I will have
Love the life that you will have
Many are now sadly missed
Many will someday be missed
How horrible is the one who takes them
How wonderful the one who creates them
How passionate the one who loves them
If they could decide would they decide well?
If I could be in control would I control well?
If you could choose would you choose well?
Many were so joyously living
Many are so amazingly living
Many will be so wondrously be living
Love the life that they will have
Love the life that I will have
Love the life that you will have
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