in restless dreams I walked alone, narrow streets of cobblestone

Tuesday, June 3

My mother used to come into my room while I lay completely still on my bed, letting melodies drift across my skin and tattoo themselves on my arms and legs. She asked me why I always had such sad music on, letting my room turn a dusty blue as each sad song crooned through the night. Why did I need Jeff Buckley to hold my hands? Why were The Smiths brushing my hair off of my face and out of the hot tears that were plastering themselves onto my cheeks? It felt good to feel so much. If felt good to lay paralyzed by pain, remembering all of their voices and their promises, watercolor tears streaming down my cheeks. It made me feel more alive, this addiction to nostalgia. I’d let the chords swell until nostalgia was sweating itself from every pore. That’s when I’d pick up my pen.

Everything went numb. It was like the blood in my veins stopped flowing and all I could hear were ghostly laughs bouncing off the walls, just out of reach. There’s only so long that a heartbeat can sustain you before the blood stops moving and you need more. My blood sat there in my nail beds, gathering in crystallizing pools and freezing over, waiting for the spark to set it on fire again and set my pen in motion. Letters lounged on my cuticles begging to leap onto the page. That’s why I needed their voices. I needed to hear someone sing sadness so I could get lost in my own head. It’s amazing the trigger moments that happen when you surround yourself with the art of others.

via *

6 comments:

  1. watercolour tears, your blood sitting in your nail beds - your imagery just keeps getting better. I so relate to this you beautiful thing! keep listening and keep writing xxx

    ReplyDelete
  2. damn... that first paragraph... I know that, I've been that... I know you didn't write it with me in mind but it feels like it, 'cause you totally got the picture...
    "It felt good to feel so much. If felt good to lay paralyzed by pain, remembering all of their voices and their promises, watercolor tears streaming down my cheeks. It made me feel more alive, this addiction to nostalgia. I’d let the chords swell until nostalgia was sweating itself from every pore." ........that's brilliant!!!!
    keep writing, always, always!!!...the world needs you... I need you!
    xoxo

    ReplyDelete
  3. sometimes, your comments are better than my writing they were reffering to. sometimes your posts have the same effect as the said songs. you are amazing.

    ReplyDelete
  4. the pictures you paint are so real and the words you use are so beautiful..

    ReplyDelete
  5. I used to think it was good to feel so deeply. I really, really did. All I can see now, though, is how disproportionately huge my feelings are for some things compared to some things' feelings for me.

    xx
    LuLu
    Breakfast After 10

    ReplyDelete
  6. why do these intense feelings make us feel so alive but eat us whole all at once?? at least for me. it's as though i am addicted to the rollercoaster of it all. seriously though, you write magic.

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for your words; they light a fire in my heart. You are lovely.