Amongst Roses and Weeds
life's better with few roses than many weeds
Another night, sitting up, thinking and dreaming. But with each of these I start to feel a little less alone. I realize that I really like the atmosphere of the night here in SoCal. It's beautiful. I can throw my window open, turn the lights down and just reflect on all this. This weird thing.
I've been having this feeling lately; the one where you look over at you friend and realize that there's more on the menu for him than there is for you. Just lately there's been a lot of that. I've placed myself and asked the standard line up:
"What's wrong with me"
"What am I lacking"
"What do they all have that I don't"
I could beat the crap out of myself with this all day. Part of it is because I can't beat the crap out of anything but myself.
Tonight amidst sharing thoughts and words, I realized something that had been thrown at me so many times. That life is so much nice to have the few roses in front of you rather than looking through weeds to find something special. I took me back to 13, when I had 3 roses to choose from. I remember choosing one and grabbing tight, trying not to let go for anything. After awhile though, I had to drop the rose. I grabbed it too tight and as the thorns dug into my skin I had to let go of it.
So I sit her today, a few pedals left as memories with a few flowers to gaze at in the distance. There's nothing telling me to take it. There's nothing waiting for me to take it. There's nothing I want to take in this picture. It's as if the ground beneath me isn't strong enough to yield the flowers again. It hurts waiting on barren land.
Another night, sitting up, thinking and dreaming. But with each of these I start to feel a little less alone. I realize that I really like the atmosphere of the night here in SoCal. It's beautiful. I can throw my window open, turn the lights down and just reflect on all this. This weird thing.
I've been having this feeling lately; the one where you look over at you friend and realize that there's more on the menu for him than there is for you. Just lately there's been a lot of that. I've placed myself and asked the standard line up:
"What's wrong with me"
"What am I lacking"
"What do they all have that I don't"
I could beat the crap out of myself with this all day. Part of it is because I can't beat the crap out of anything but myself.
Tonight amidst sharing thoughts and words, I realized something that had been thrown at me so many times. That life is so much nice to have the few roses in front of you rather than looking through weeds to find something special. I took me back to 13, when I had 3 roses to choose from. I remember choosing one and grabbing tight, trying not to let go for anything. After awhile though, I had to drop the rose. I grabbed it too tight and as the thorns dug into my skin I had to let go of it.
So I sit her today, a few pedals left as memories with a few flowers to gaze at in the distance. There's nothing telling me to take it. There's nothing waiting for me to take it. There's nothing I want to take in this picture. It's as if the ground beneath me isn't strong enough to yield the flowers again. It hurts waiting on barren land.
posted by Crivor at 2:08 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home