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Eyes like a dusty dirt porn magazine
14 September 2035 @ 12:00 am
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Eyes like a dusty dirt porn magazine
09 December 2013 @ 09:47 pm
"It’s funny how sometimes life can bleep out; like a faulty telephone connection in the rain. You get so caught up in big things that you don’t realize how extremely complex and beautiful the things in between the seams are. Everything can be lost. The funny part is, you won’t even realize it has been lost, so if you really think about it, it hasn’t been lost at all. Because if you don’t realize your loss, how can you possibly acknowledge the existence of there being one. Slow it down. Slow. Perfect.

I realized how messed up my head had become on a drive home alone. I had driven to another state to visit some people, and was driving home…awfully late, or awfully early if you would like to say. The clock was hitting around 6:25 a.m. As I was driving, I realized that the sun usually rises around 6:25. I was never really up that early, so it began to sink in that I might be able to also witness a sunrise. I’ve heard from many people, mostly couples in love, that sunrises can make your whole day more delicate.
Light was beginning to flood through the windows of my car. I started to also realize that the light was coming on far too quickly. I would never make it home in time to prop up my head, grab a blanket, and lay back across the grass-breathe- and take it all in for how amazing it really was. It was getting lighter, and lighter, that I could almost feel the sun teasing me as it began to rise…without me...alone. It was a very big predicament in my mind, as I was racing away, at 75 miles an hour down a lonely highway as the sun began to rise slowly the exact opposite direction of my eyes. So, the sun was rising behind me. Perfect. Just perfect. I got frustrated. Alright, I got really frustrated. My teeth bit hard against my lips until the blood slid down my throat in little threads. I pressed down upon my car pedals as I made a pathetic attempt to race the sun. I needed more time. All I got was more blood in my throat and more light shining against my back. I took quick glances over my shoulder. Sorta purple sky. Stare at the road, make sure I have another 2 seconds to burn without looking…glance back. Orange, pink light moving upwards. Back to the road. Swerve a little. This isn’t working very well…this won’t work at all. One more glance. Damn those high buildings. I drove faster. I then realized that as the highway was getting, well, somewhat more challenging, (to a driver who’s not constantly looking at it), I looked around the car for other means of sight seeing. The rearview mirror. A gift. I then drove calmly as I peeked into the mirror as often as I could to see a bright yellow and purple sky shrouded between the smudges on the rearview mirror itself, as well as the dirty back window of my car. I got home. The sun had risen and the sky was a very light grey. I was sad, and all at once, I sat down upon the hood of my car, laid back, and cried. And cried. And cried. I could have been crying because I was lonely, or frustrated, or just because, I had been late. And it was the worst feeling of being late. It’s not one of those things were you are late to work, (a place you usually hate to go too); this was worse. Much worse. I cried. And now I know why I cried. I cried because it hit me. Life hit me. In a very strange way I realized how I looked at life. I lived life and looked at its beauty the same way that I drove while the sunset was rising that same morning: blind. Beautiful things in life have been surrounding me all this time, but I was always to busy or to afraid to look at it. I always had my back turned on it, or, if I had enough courage, to glance back at it for 2-second intervals, but to never really catch it in. And the worst thing that I could do, which I did often, is look back at it through someone else’s eyes, or through some distorted reflection of some sort. I cried because I was disgusted with myself. There is just too much beauty in this world, and I need to start seeing it…I mean… really seeing it. I talked to Meg that night. “We need to capture all the beauty of the world and drown them into songs. Each song needs to capture something beautiful, something worth writing, something real. No more wasting time. There’s just too much of everything everywhere that if we stop for a second, something perfect will be lost, and then forgotten.”

The next day Meg and I walked to the park together. We saw a little girl let go of a yellow balloon. We heard her say, “Fly. Fly away! Go to heaven and go to mother.” As we watched the balloon slowly take off, we realized that there were words written all over it in black ink. A letter or message of some sort. Beautiful. Meg and I looked at each other and smiled. We hurried home to get her guitar. "