You're Not the Same.

So I'm sitting here in my old gym shorts and a man-shirt. By man-shirt, I mean one of those oversized t-shirts that's worn in and looks like it could belong to your boyfriend (Ex. Band shirt, car shirt, etc). If I had a boyfriend... you know? I realized starting with 'so' was probably a poor choice on my part, but I'll let it go this one time. And here we go.

But what can I say that hasn't been said!? It's taunting and annoying and... oh, I'll quit while I'm ahead.

But why should I?

Did I mention that I thought out an entire rant to send to my english teacher? Did I mention that I thought myself a bit insane at this point. You bet.

I'm hungry. Like, a lot.

Which can't be good. I don't like to eat. I'm skeptical. But at this exact moment in time. I want pizza.

I also want to be in New York City.

At a concert at Bowery Ballroom.

With a guy I admitted to loving a few posts ago.

Yeah. That's what I want right now.

I'm obsessed. It needs to stop.

Part of me just wants to scream at him, "I LIKE YOU."

But that'd be silly and create unneeded tension.

So I'll hide it away for a long, long time in hopes that it will dull.

It won't.

Enough about being a love-sick creep.

ON TO A MORE ROBUST TOPIC.

Like whaling? I know nothing of this.

Like sports? Again, nothing.

Robust for me is like, running around the block or hugging a stranger.

I'm pathetic.

Errr, so.

So. SO. I'll tell you what. I'm unhappy. As in, eternally unhappy.

Like a soul in unrest. That sounds like poor grammar.

Ah, I feel like this is dragging on boringly.

I apologize if I am boring you to death, my dear readers.

Or lack thereof.

Maybe I should go to bed.

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I should stop deliberating about this.

This blog has no purpose.

Have another poem?

Where do silver linings go
When someone passes them by?
What happens to the wasted ones,
Neglected, cold, unwanted ones?

Do silver linings get recycled?
Bring another cheer?
When the one who's name was tattooed upon them,
Left them in the air?

Or do they go adrift,
In the deep cerulean,
Do they shrivel up, and curl away?
Purpose left unfulfilled?

Silver linings,
Strung upon each rainy-looking cloud,
Meant to bring about a change,
To soften hurt and fear.

But when they're refused,
Can they be reused,
Can they live out their life?
Can they bring about the joy?

Where do the linings go,
Whose shimmery color brings hope?
These mystic things,
Taught to us in childhood.

When one loses,
And the other wins,
When something inside of us dies.
They're told to be there, waiting.

We're meant to look for them.
To seek them out in times of trouble.
Silver linings. Dropped into the sky.
Pluck them down and take advantage.

Or leave them hanging there.
To waste away, to curl up and cease.
Or to float to those less shy?
We shouldn't know,

And shan't know, either.
For we cannot float among them,
We can't understand the ways of shifting clouds.
We can't reach out and grab them.

So silver linings,
Come and go.
And drift away on clouds.
Catch one.

Keep one,
Let them pass.
Seek them out.
Watch them go.

Silver linings.