Plumbdamaged• Show poetry

I am always lost when people ask me to fill in a space so large simply by telling "about me". Because, well, there is nothing about me that I think anyone could possibly find interesting.
I'm just a normal person, a person with highs and lows. a person with both a good and a bad life. A person who has days where they love being alive... and others where they wish the would die - not physically, just the part of them that can FEEL.

My life- ... well, it's good. Not as good as I have always hoped for, but my dreams are still hanging on. Despite what I have been told, I know I will not ALWAYS be a failure, and I know my existence is not a mistake. I have plans, and goals... like everyone else in this world. Some day perhaps I will end up living out my biggest dream and I will be up on a stage singing my heart out to my own words. Maybe some day I will have an art exhibit where people will understand what I try to say in my drawings and paintings. Some day perhaps a book with my name on it will be on the shelf at my favorite book store,... my own album only a few shelves down in the music section. Perhaps those dreams will come true- perhaps they won't,... but no matter which- I will have fun getting to that answer.
I cannot imagine my life without words, and without paint splatters on my easel. I know I could not live without the sound of an angelic melody in my ears and the pounding of the deepest bass drumming in my heart. I cannot breathe without it.

SO here I am, in the middle of the night( as always), writing every feeling I have ever had in the form of lyrics and poetry- trying to get out everything that has been locked in for so long, and sharing everything that I can possibly sort out. It's hard to sort through so many thoughts and feelings. They come out all at once and so my notebooks are filled with random things scribbled on every inch of paper I can find. Every 3 words in those notebooks bring thoughts that could fill several pages. Same with every note that is played on my keyboard (which I hope will some day magically turn into a grand piano). I run out of canvases as soon as I stock up, there never seems to be enough room to paint or draw every picture I see in my head or for every story I want to tell ... with that said I suppose you will understand when I say: it takes a while to put my thoughts together in a way that can be followed, or for me to pull apart that simple melody so it can climb its way through background. I wondered for a while if it was even possible to do - if perhaps I would never be able to sort through the mess and the noise in my head...but I will use every moment I have to try. I only wish there was more than 24 hours to a day so I would have more time to pull everything out of me.

Well, it seems as if time is once again slipping by too fast, so...for now...
adieu,
...