Syn Drom.

It feels like we've been lying here for days
And now, out of the same place
I'm standing next to you.
Underneath, a million words
We buried all of the ones that we thought worth
Listening to.
And you don't know how beautiful you are.
Take love and peace,
And see what gets you far.
And you don't know,
You've got a flower in your soul--
It's you...

I feel like in a broken palm of words
to describe,
Le diamante dans ta coeur,
Tu n'est pas une femme,
Tu est une fille.
The world's not alone,
Simply a whirl with you.
And you don't know how beautiful you are,
Take love and peace,
And see what gets you far.
And you don't know,
You've got a flower in your soul--
It's you...

I sometimes wish I'd gotten to know her better. If she could write lyrics as beautiful as these, she must have been one unforgettable person. And her voice definitely entrances me. It's a shame we never even talked until less than a month ago.

I write with a mixture of nostalgia and hope. It is amusing to think that right now, while I lie here in bed, the eight grade class is in Wye Island, probably having the best time of their lives. I miss that place, a lot. I want to go back one day with a guitar. I am certain that I would be able to play some great things there. Inspiration and memories are endless. The place seems enchanted, in a way. I still remember that field of fireflies at night, glowing and dancing before my eyes. I could've stared at it for hours. I remember walking in the darkness with a group of people, looking for obscure clues to some trivial hunt. Remembering how afraid everyone was to go into the woods. I'll admit, that place was pretty creepy.

The flood of memories from just a year ago seem to slowly draw me under. I could close my eyes and see it all again...
Smelling her hair in the morning as I hugged her, and sneaking a kiss before anyone else walked into the room. It seems that with every day that passes, those memories slowly become more and more like dreams. I don't want to go back and live it again. I'd like to someday see what could have been. Perhaps what will be.
Every adult tells me that if there is someone who walks into our lives whom we are meant to see again, it is only a matter of waiting for that moment to come. But that state of mind doesn't help me. It simply makes it harder to get past it.

I am presented with opportunities as each day passes, but mixed parts of me don't seem to want to take those. It just seems like I will be disappointed. There's moments when I wonder if life gets a kick of seeing someone's happiness and taking it away from them.

Meh. Rambling gets me nowhere. My will to continue a train of thought seems to have died. I am a disappointment to myself.