Falling through life. Falling through expectations. Falling through my hopes. Falling through circumstances.
I keep expecting it to hurt; I keep wanting all this to break my skin. There is no bottom in sight, only misty eyes in the early evening.
Is this what the duality of the soul has led me to? I only wanted to be wise, not this. This transient experience continues to leave us numb and tired.
Every person I meet is correct. Everyone I talk to brings such exquisite beauty. You, you have accurately and cruelly captured the human experience—no wait, haven’t I said this all before?
Each experience is different than I expect, even when I know it to be. Other than to say this, I shouldn’t comment at all; I have no right.
It’s all music. Every twist In the chaos. Every burned friendship. Every bad day. Every move of fate, real or not. It’s all music, and we’re just staring, looking for a way to say nothing at all.