I want to write lyrics that rhyme and tell a story about the life we use to have, but every time i try, my mind dives into a cascade where huge rocks beneath lie. I forget about how important this cell is to me. I linger like an ant that sticks around a popsicle that has been dropped on the hot black pavement during the hottest days in summer, trying to eat and smell you because you complete me. But this cell is crowded. It is overflowing with emotion and its' managers.
I want to break free and be who i used to be. A flirt who launched herself at love every chance she had. Because i realized that falling in love is so much greater than holding back on so many levels. I care little, now, for crying over a broken heart once, twice or a million. Loving is living, and like i said before i am not a dead dog.
I started running again. A good friend continues to remind me that odd years are great years, and the meaning behind that is worthless, but it makes me feel hopeful and optimistic.
The cells still exist, but like a guilty prisoner i am finishing up my time and soon i will break free and though the world may have evolved while i was away in this dark place, i will adapt because i am one of the greatest. The world isn't ready for this, but i could care less.
