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| so i've been told that i visit all of my friend's xangas umpteen times a day, but this is news to me.
so, if your footprints are showing a million rockitscientists traipsing around your weblog entries daily, rest assured that i am not stalking you, and i have no idea why xanga prefers to say that i am.
i can only guess that it has something to do w/my rss reader checking my subscriptions automatically for me. maybe it would help if i signed out of xanga every once in a while. | | |
| i'm a deer that caught in the headlamp glow
of your traffic jam life, and so
murderously i stand, innocently
all wrapped up into one
here in your path. crash.
and all i could think of was no.
and all you could think of was no.
no, i don't want to.
no, i don't need this.
no, i don't know what to do.
it's my last decision, and it was so selfish.
i wasn't thinking of you.
and now i've killed you, and you've killed me.
and i did it so stupidly. please forgive me.
i wanted it so bad, crouched in the darkness.
i couldn't wait either, staring into your eyes.
i wanted what i couldn't have, and i was so heartless.
i saw the light, and my legs began to rise.
why i waited until you came along? i don't know.
as i sit here in a pile of myself, thinking about it all.
was it rash? or was this my fate?
i'm sure it wasn't yours. i'll take the blame.
it was me who came into your path.
if it's all the same, i'm really sorry.
i can understand, your family's sad.
if you can't accept my apology please don't feel bad
about cursing my name.
i'm just a deer that got caught.
i got scared.
i forgot what it was i was doing,
what i was pursuing.
it's not the way i usually run my life. what a mistake.
the whole time i'm asking, what am i doing?
who is this running my thought process?
i wish i would have thought before i did what i did,
and for that i'm sorry.
i'd like to offer you my deerest apologies. | | |
| but what happens when 'it' finds you? | | |
| there's nothing to be sorry for. | | |
| there once was a boy with the power to change his entire world. nothing was uncontrollable to him, for in the image of his creator he was fearfully and wonderfully made. in life however, his power was limited: like all great currents, his life would one day end.
every person is born with the knowledge of their existence, and nothing more. no good, no bad, no wrong, or right, and yet this boy could not for the life of him remember from where or when he had gained such ideas. we can only assume that in the earliest of years his loving parents passed them down to him before any sense of memory had even developed, and that from his loving grandparents, his parents had each learned as well, and so on, and so forth.
for years he lived in fear, afraid of doing the wrong thing. in every aspect of his life, every choice was directly followed by the question. every movement, analyzed, dissected, and inspected. he even paid close attention to the movements of others, constantly searching for ways to improve his own understandings of good and evil. he understood that everything around him happened for a reason, but what was the reason? | | |
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