IT’S NEARLY FRIDAY

It sounds really weird being hyped about it being nearly friday. I am not hyped, I just realised how much work I still have to do before monday. I’m slowly getting through it though. Now that I have actually started, I feel better about tackling my workload.

Personally, I think I feel stronger now? I feel less overwhelmed and less distant from my work. I’m not sure if it is because I am more interested in what I am doing or if it is due to my anti depressants that I feel like I can tackle things heads on easier than before.

Question of the day: What is your favourite Shakespeare play?

I have never read anything Shakespeare related, but I am currently reading The Taming of the shrew with my boyfriend.

Word of the day: Caraphernalia

It is a noun and according to the urban dictionary means: A broken-heart disease whenever someone leaves you but leaves all their things behind

Poem of the day Here am I by Anis Mojgani

We all wanted that high school sweetheart
We wanted to be young in the 50s with meatloaves and sock hops and lawns
Lawns so perfect they looked like Clark Gable was kissing them

We wanted to be 13 and alive and meet a girl that was 13 and alive
And walk with her past the grandstands
To sit and hold hands with
To sit and kiss with
To sit and sit with
Like it was something you would miss, but that never was

We once went to bed
Like between the bed sheets was a valley with dinosaurs still breathing
And how we capture these triceratops and brontosauruses
But even they were opened up with the smoke that rose out of the homes and the corners that we once climbed through
The streets and the footballs, which we once threw
The school desks upon, which we once drew
The windows that sat open, through we once flew

Before the outside world of parking spaces and dead friends came flooding on in
And we forgot what we wanted
And we became what we become
Waitresses and bartenders, city employees and temp positions
We are junkies and one kiss poems and we cry the stars
As we write our scars onto dumpsters and electric boxes
Because the only thing that we can hear is our hearts
And the only ones listening are the streets
That the blood that breaths through the letters we leave
And we dream to rise ourselves up out of these burning buildings
But instead we get buried somewhere beneath

Because I know my life is like some high school kids notebook
A high school kid that shuffles back and forth between school and home
Stacking the letters and the pictures too close for anyone outside of his own imagination to read
Because it’s through the ink that his heart beats, that his heart breaths
And we all just wanted to write these notes:

Check if you like me
Check if you don’t
Check if you’ll date me
Check if you won’t

Because we all wanted the love songs to be true
And we did love dinosaurs once
And we wanted the stars to hold our hands
To lick the teeth, to fuck us
But they ended up fucking us
So, let your smile twist
Like my heart dancing precariously on the edge of my fingertips
Staining them like that same high school kid, licking his thoughts
Using his sharpie tip writing

I was here
I was here, mothafucka
And ain’t none of y’all can write that in the spot that I just wrote it in
I’m here, mothafucka, and we all here, mothafucka, and we all mothafuckas, mothafucka
Because every breath I give brings me a second closer to the day that my mother may die
Because every breath I take, takes me a second further from the moment she caught my father’s eye
Because every word I carry is another stone to put into place in the foundation that I’m building
Because the days can erase something that I never saw
What all of us wanted and what none of us got
What we all had and have and what we all forgot
That we all wanted to be something
That we all became something
And it might not be the shit we once though we’d be when we were kids, but something is still something
And like some cats say: something is better than nothing
Feet are smarter than an engine
And dreams are stronger than thighs
And questions are the only answers we need to know that we are alive as I am when I have the mind of a child
Asking, why is 2 + 3 always equal to 5?
Where do people go to when they die?
What made the beauty of the moon?
And the beauty of the sea?
Did that beauty make you?
Did that beauty make me?
Will that make me something?
Will I be something?
Am I something?

And the answer comes: already am, always was, and I still have time to be

Source (x)

Photo of the day

CologneTonhalleStation
Bernd Schaefer

Video of the day

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