I'm writing from my 'happy place' right now.
This spot is my base. Sure, I'll even call it my safe base.
This spot I call home. Yes, this very chair in this very room, by this favorite window, with books, and a laptop, Pandora, my coffee, my college courses, my pencils, my pens, my journal, my headphones, my highlighter, connected to a network that can answer every question I throw at it, and with my best friend in the floor ready to pounce her tennis ball. I have a chair to which I can squirm into any position. This room that's more windows than walls. This window eases my bones with sunlight and crickets and breezes. Robert Jordan's words lay resting on trees inside my satchel - Rand's waiting for me to go and fight Ba'alzamon for the last time bringing peace to the entire world for once. The laptop takes me here to this tiny piece to the internet I lay claim to, and let's me paint my reality, my perspective to the world. Soft voices, lazy guitars, and depressing lyrics make me smile. My black magick inside that ceramic helps me focus and fights the drawls of sleep. I've signed up for a free Chemistry course online, because science bitch. I have my tools that I use to help me navigate this existence. My journal holds my most secretive thoughts - thoughts that should never see light, but alas... they will when the dirt and I finally collide into one. Floating in the air is a network of infinite knowledge to it all - the diest should go ahead and start calling god AI now (that was dramatic huh?). My Lucy girl plays with her busted tennis ball, and when bored with that she whines in the floor because she wants to be in my lap.
My haven.
And today from here I write verses. Though I am happy right now, safe in these pale blue arms... my writings aren't always indicative of my current state of mind, but rather thoughts that need an outlet before they fester into dangerous places.
♝♝♝
you're right
you're not 'special'it's just you
and it's always been just you
the mediocre1
that was your internet handel, yeah?
yeah
nick named yourself 'jane doe'
because you're just another face in the crowd
they tell me lies
they fill my head
innumerable counts keep the hoping
hoping for what
hope is for fools
you'll never make it
to what they tell you you'll be
you're too flimsy
too brittle
too dull
once you let the truth in
you'll be free of their mouths
free of their hope
free of their hold on you
they argue
the voices in my head
not audible
i can hear them hissing not by ears
but in my head
who to believe
who is seeing truth
who is blind
why do they argue so much?
how do i upper cut them
silent.
just truth
just give me truth
no candy coated
no lenses of any shade
just deafening truth
i am ready
h
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