GIMME

Dear Person Up There,

I know, deep down inside, you have some small, perhaps very very small, but still a spot in the soft pump-like organ you possess under your ribcage, for me.

I know this because, I am praying fervently that confidence can take the place of certainty.

So....GIMME!

I WANT!

MINEEEEEEEE~

Thanking you in advance.

Amen.

Joyce.

Blind

I was young
but I wasn’t naïve
I was helpless as you turned around to leave
And still I have the pain I had to carry
A past so deep, that even you could not bury if you tried

After all this time
I never thought we’d be here, I never thought we’d be here
When my love for you is blind
But I couldn’t make you see it, I couldn’t make you see it
That I loved you more than you’ll ever know
And part of me died
when I let you go

I would fall asleep
only in hopes of dreaming
That everything would be like it was before
But nights like this it seems are slowly fleeting
They disappear as reality is crashing through the floor

After all this time
I never thought be we’d here, I never thought we’d be here
When my love for you is blind
But I couldn’t make you see it, I couldn’t make you see it
That I loved you more than you’ll ever know
And part of me died
when I let you go

Blind
Lifehouse

Irrational

Dear lonely isle,

Sometimes we need to know when to let go.
This is me, without tear stains on my cheeks, and without the swollen puffy eyes.
This is me, without my mask, and without a smile.

These days, I find the more it hurts the wider I smile, and the louder I laugh.

You take the pain and put it into a box, then you put the box at the corner of your heart.
It numbs the feeling somewhat. Maybe one day when I do this I really won't feel anything anymore.

Then you cry because its the only thing you can do, and because you wished you could do something more.
Then you pull the covers over your head and sleep it off. Because someone said not to worry about things that you couldn't help.

Waking up is like trying to find your teeth in the dark after having them punched out the night before. You stumble for awhile as you try to figure out who you are, what are you doing, and why the hell can't you open your eyes properly.
When you've gotten down questions one and two, you find the answer for number three.
And while you're still in the interim state of not fully understanding anything, something in your subconscious picks up the box of pain in the corner of your heart and hides it somewhere out of sight.

Some days are too important to leave to the spoilt child running the operation tower.

And against all reason and logic, the day goes well. And you appreciate it that the big guy up there still seems to care.

Perhaps you do get time off for good behaviour.
But not today.

Sometimes we need to know when to let go.
But I usually find out too late.
It's not today. Maybe tomorrow.

love, Joyce.