A Bit Self-Indulgent

I've been waiting for Thursday to come since Monday. I can almost taste it, but first! a physics exam. In a desperate attempt to avoid studying physics I found myself something to do, inspired by one of my friends I follow here on blogspot. Behold, 100 Random Facts about Alyssa!

My Heart is a Small Place

I have yet to replace the old, creaky floorboards, the leaking sink, and the windows that won't shut, but I am doing my best to keep the place tidy.

I take out the trash, sweep the cobwebs, water the plants. I'm fastiduous when it comes to arranging my shoes, books, files.

But it's tricky when you come over. I try to hide the little cardboard boxes labeled, 'Secrets,' the folders upon folders of Memories, a logbook of 'Feelings' in the cupboard.

But what use is it, really?

What broken hearts we have!

the better to write with, stranger.

(Untitled)

I'm looking for someone
whose name I do not know
whose face I have not seen
whose voice I have not heard

When it starts to rain on the long walk home
I feel your arm on my shoulder
and I can hear you fumbling
for an umbrella in your backpack

I know that you are looking for me, too
on your long walks home
when the streets are cold and the stars are asleep
you wonder how warm it must be in my embrace

You could be anyone
then again, you could be no one
I can't wait to meet you
but maybe I already have

(written for a good friend)

Parachutes

Have you heard the song "Parachutes" by Coldplay?

The song clocks in at just a quarter of a minute. Stylistically, it's quite simple: clean guitar, and a few parallel lines for lyrics. While a part of me wishes that it were (waay) longer, another part thinks it's perfect the way it is. Have a listen:


 

It's dangerous business

taking long walks alone
to nowhere in particular
this morning I left my headphones at home
there was no music to screen my thoughts of you
just the lonely sound of silence
and the last words you spoke to me
on loop inside my head
for some reason I was fine with that :)
 

An Analogy

listening to the guitar parts in Pink Floyd songs

is just like listening to the three CDs worth of music 

I downloaded in a language I can't understand.

I speak neither guitar nor Japanese and 

the words make no sense but

the riffs and cadences more than make up for it,
much like how your eyes
are the words to my favorite songs 
unwritten
maybe I do understand.
  

Being Inarticulate

it's really hard to be articulate, you see
when I'm with you
my words make no real sense
my mouth
is spewing them out
like a cassette tape would
spew out sappy old songs
that we only hear on easy listening radio stations
 

Number Three

(The story of the Third.)

It began with a stirring in my heart.
I was thirsty for rebellion.
I was holding on to the last few delicate threads of my youth.

I asked Mother for permission:
"No," she said.
And "No," I heard.

And so I resigned to my Mother's wishes, and life went on.
And life was peaceful.

Until I stirred again.

My heart would not be still.
The moment was ripe.
I had to.
And I did.

Without much thought,
save for one deep breath,
I took the plunge.
It was painful, but thrillingly so.
It was a pain the moment it started.
It was a pain the moment it had to be taken away.
It was a pain trying to put it back on.
And it was a pain knowing I had to give it up.

But I did.
I gave up on it, and walked away as a different person.
Not quite who I was before the whole affair.
Someone else.


Thus ends the story of what would have been my third piercing.