every time i go to the park i feel different. running was impossible before, something i always dreamed about. in dreams i would push harder, throw my arms out, laugh. in real life i'm lip synching, aching, enjoying the wind and sunset, and shocked. miles go by, i'm feeling leaner, stronger and less anxious. some times anyway. it was time to stop thinking about it. nothing was happening.
now. i'm electric.
i try to shake the the voice that keeps repeating mania, i need to believe this is me.
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.and i have the blogs to prove it.
[not so good with the eye contact]
.i am a strange person.
.and i have the blogs to prove it.
.i blame the razors.
.older.
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too easy to fool. and too easy to lead. most times its easy to take the advantage and run with it. but in the end it makes the fun part seem lacking and less filling.
where is the good part of being on the floor beneath.
being the one with a thousand pennies and no paper.
the one with all the will and no power over it.
hm. some powers are rather lacking it seems.
taking over the weak leaves us with that fake floaty head and way to much time to gloat all alone to the walls.
where is the good part of being on the floor beneath.
being the one with a thousand pennies and no paper.
the one with all the will and no power over it.
hm. some powers are rather lacking it seems.
taking over the weak leaves us with that fake floaty head and way to much time to gloat all alone to the walls.
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