http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XBabozrPGA&ob=av2e – Link To Pink Bullets-The Shins
‘the scent of your skin is a foreign flower’
Yesterday, i recieved some of my grandmothers belongings from somalia. It was a bitter piece of the past that was handed to me. To be able to smell her and feel her was exhilarating. Yet i knew i’d never have that feeling again. Love is cruel, life is worse. I dont know what i’ve learnt from this ‘experiance’, but i think that may be the point. That acceptance is near impossible, and as we teach our kids to be truthful and to love with no fear, and to accept what life throws our way and take it within our stride, we all know somewhere hidden deeply inside the core of our souls that it is hard. That it is painful. I think what strikes me most, is how we inherently feel that we should rise above it or pace through it, why should we live a cold montonous robotic life, when we feel dead inside?
All these unanswered questions are what we are left with? We toy with these questions in the dark sleepless nights and push them aside when the light which holds no clarity returns. I want to answer these questions, i want them answered. I want to know why evil prevails and good disintergrates. I want to know why we must grow up when all we wish is for those light, moments which come with youth. I want to know why when we sit in an empty room, we can breakdown yet that empty room can be a home filled with relatives and friends, but they cant hear you, and they cant see you, they wont feel you. You are forever invisible in a world which tries so hard to seperate you from yourself.
All i am is a broken human being, with no voice who might have just lost herself.