she's alright with me

A gasp for breath rips through his dry throat like a sharp tear of thick cotton  fabric. Heels drive deeper into the sides of a steed already frothing in a panicked sprint. Perhaps breakneck speed is called breakneck speed because there's no time to see the branches that can take your head off, let alone dodge them. Face pressing against the mane of his horse, eyes squint to keep out hair and sweat. Not the good, clean sweat of hard work he is so used to smelling, no. This is the acrid stink of fear leaching from every pore of the terrified animal that would throw him from its back in a moment if he weren't holding on for life itself, his grip on the reins nothing more than the paralysis of instinct, eking fear from every pore of his own. A plague of terror to infect whatever landing place they find, the putrescent infection of horror that so easily spreads from a lone rider bearing only bad news and worse at his heels...

i tried so hard to write tonight. to make myself buckle down and birth something from a different corner of my head, some proof that a story not my own is in there somewhere. it's hard to watch epic stories and then feel like writing anything other than an epic when you sit down to make something yourself. 

i want to look out my window and see something different down on the street. nights like this i want to slip out my window and go wander in the dark and the quiet. have the moonlight and the shadows all to myself, even in all of these lined streets of peopleful houses. nights like this i want to walk down to the lake and circle it aimlessly (without drowning in swamp muck, or coming back smelling like dead carp and old algae.) that's a beautiful image right there. instead of quiet moonlight, i've made you draw a nice picture in your head of old fishy smelling lake muck. i must be so talented. 

sometimes i worry so much about being a disappointment that i don't even want to try things. i like hiding in the dark and the moonlight and solitude. i'm such a nocturnal creature. i prefer the cold to the heat, in most cases. at least where the weather is concerned. i prefer a shadow to a bright light. it's easier to be elusive and immaterial in the smoke of uncertainty. 

ah well. not any more, see. i'm back to being alright with myself, and not caring what anyone else thinks. i spent a month resigning myself to no future, and now i've got a huge one wide open before me, so i'm running for it with both arms open. i might trip, faceplant, but at least i'll be doing something instead of nothing. at the very least i can get out, be a friend, make a friend. everyone can use more friends. 

had a nightmare about my ex last night. one of those terrible things because while the premise of it was nightmarish, parts of it were good, and that made it even worse. the feel of his hand heavy and real as i pulled him away from the people he was trying to talk to. the sound of his laugh as we talked, even if he was laughing at my frustration. his chest as i beat my fists against it begging him to leave. 

she is trapped inside a month of grey

and they take a little every day

she is a victim of her own responses

shackled to a heart that wants to settle

and then runs away

it's a sin to be fading endlessly

yeah, but she's alright with me

she is leaving on a walkaway

she is leaving me in disarray

in the absence of a place to be

she stands there looking back at me

hesitates, and then turns away

she'll change so suddenly, 

she's just like mercury

yeah, but she's alright with me

keep some sorrow in your hearts and minds

for the things that die before their time

for the restlessly abandoned homes

the tired and weary ramblers bones

and stay beside me where i lie

she's entwined in me

crazy as can be

yeah, but she's alright with me.

she's alright

she's alright with me...

mercury - counting crows