"What kinds of people are there, Daddy?"
"There are all kinds. Even those you wouldn't think exist, exist."
- Me and my father in discussion
Some won't change. Some always change. Some have been the same all along, but you don't see it until you change yourself. You rearrange your life and the decorations in it. Ooops, there goes an old vase I used to like but suddenly find ugly, and wow, are these curtains new? I've never looked at them like this before. What I'm trying to say is that your eyes change, but not necessarily what's around you. I wish I could just press the contents of my life into a mixer and watch it whirl around, events replacing eachother, relations ending and starting at new points in time, appropriate points, cause what comes out is a perfectly blended, fresh-tasting smoothie. I wanna grab events from my past and put them in my present, and banish events from the present to the past. I wanna mess up my life, wanna screw it up so bad that God, if he exists, would have no choice but let me start over to make it right. And if that can't happen, I wanna leave this place and never come back, I could start over somewhere else. Another place would be my home, other faces would be my friends, I wouldn't be caught, I'd be free, and I would enjoy solistice for the first time in years. Out of imprisonment, out of your blue shadows, out of misery. Free as a bird, a moth reborn, I would fly... Fly and never land.
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For Dust And Memories