"Toys in the attic come out to play... They hate it when you lock them away..." -- Ave Dimentia, The Marionnettes.
John still has tapes of my old radio shows in his car. I remember that song...
Boy do I remember that song. I remember when I was 14 and I decided that complete abandonment to the coursing madness was the only way.
When people talk about "the voices" and make cute faces I want to bite a piece of flesh out of their cheek so that their tongue sticks out and ask them to smile.
*grin*
Apparently I'm still crazy, but I don't think I'm mad anymore. I'm too lucky. That's the song that I sing to myself every morning with the steam of the shower holding me in an embrace warmer than anything I thought I'd ever have. I'm so lucky. I have heating in my appartment. I have an appartment. It has high ceilings - but not so high as the ceiling we slept under when we warmed ourselves to trash bin fires.
What am I doing here?
I don't know.
But I sure as hell do realize how lucky I am. My father be damned, if he so desires - I could be so worse off...
*sigh* I wonder if we could engineer a drug that kicks people upside the head and gives them a real sense of perspective. Not a *real* *real* sense of perspective - that smacks too much of comparing your miseries along a scale...
"If you didn't see your best friend get murdered in a gang fight then you have no right to misery" - okay, that's not right either.
But... But.
Ten thousand cigarette butts and I'm no closer to helping anyone.
I wish I could paint a picture of the sky I slept under and hug someone and put wind through their bones the way the winter did when I was fifteen.
I wish I could take the angle of the broken glass that some leather-jacketed man-child caressed the most beautiful face I've ever seen with, and show you how the scar only made her more beautiful.
I wish...
I wish I may I wish I might I wish I could give you all the love I've found in my heart, these last 1000 nights.
But I'm workin' on it.
And I wish I didn't sound the way my parents do when they lecture me about the holocaust.
No matter what, we're all spoiled children, and we're all abused children too.
Welcome to nostalgialand. I'm too young to be this nostalgic. ;)