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Don't Tickle Tigger - 2003-09-10 - 04:52 The Essence of a Marching Band - 2003-04-15 - 04:19 In Beer, We Trust - 2003-03-25 - 03:19 Jealousy and Hookers - 2003-03-07 - 05:53 A Bang, A Scrape and a Raging Ouch - 2003-02-28 - 07:09 |
2002-03-01 - 03:28
just to move...
have you ever been so lost that you just don't know which way to go? you're just standing in the middle of the woods... and you know that there are 360 degrees from which to choose... but everything is so hazy that you're not sure in which direction to start... standing there, you hold hope... hope that the fog will lift... hope that there is actually somewhere brighter... hope that you will choose the right path... you realize that standing there is uncomfortable... unproductive. you're unhappy and know that the only way to fix that is to move on. you're not entirely sure which was is forward... and which was is back... but you know... you must move. somehow... you get it together... not enough to make everything clear... but that would be too much to ask for... so you get it together just enough to make out a path... the path is familiar... you can tell that you've seen it before... but you're not sure how... so you walk... just to move... just to stop feeling the pain from the place you're in... just to move... just to search for the better place you've been holding hope for all along... just to move... you've been down this path before. it was a different path... different circumstances... but now, the path is worn... now, the path is brighter... is it brighter because the haze is lifting... or is it brighter merely because you cleared the path a little bit more on the last trip... or are you just becoming used to the fogginess... are you just growing accustomed to the haze... you see the landmarks... and you remember... remember the journey... remember the pain... remember the pain... you remember the danger of the path... remember the end result... so you stop. the silence is deafening... the wheels are now grinding... the wheels are your own... the air is cold... so cold... the cold is your own... the smell of fear... the smell that only a preditor can decipher... the smell is your own... you want to run... you want to hide... you want to escape... but you can't... turning to look at the path behind you, you know... you know from where you came... you know what's waiting for you there... you know that going on will lead you to the same place... the forest is vast... yet, you can't find another path... somehow, you're always moving forward... you're always moving to that same old place... in the darkness... in the haze... in the pain... you can't stay here... not in the path... not dead in the path... not dead and alone and in the path... how do you continue... how do you go on... standing there, you hold hope... hope that the fog will lift... hope that there is actually somewhere brighter... hope that you will choose the right path... hope... hope that someday you will stop standing... stop living in the haze... stop living in the pain... stop needing to hope for hope... hope that someday you will stop walking... just to move... just to move . . . just to m o v e . . .
