You make dreams nice.

December 16, 2005

Today was littered with 605s, 405s, 55s, and 10s. I wish I’d OBEYed, but your presence alone was enough to make this not a waste of time. I never know what to do with my hands. I awkwardly put them into my empty pockets, but with the hope that someday I can place them in yours. Nervousness overwhelms any eloquency I may possess when I’m with you. I’m always clearing my throat, but I’ve never got a thing to say. And there’s a whole lot I want, maybe need, to communicate to you, believe me. When or how, I’ve no idea. I figure that maybe it’d be best to just keep my mouth shut and just enjoy your company because to be completely honest, I don’t know what I’d do without it for too long. These kinds of decisions in these types of predicaments absolutely kill me. They’ve done so for years. You probably hate me for the innumerable entries written about you. I don’t blame you because so do I. Stop being so pretty, and lose the great personality. The thing is though, when you’re next to me, I’m caught in a moment that says, “no matter how things turn out, it’ll all be okay.”

Dashboard singalongs with you help keep me alive.

I long to rejoice in the trials I face. But difficulty ensues in these trying, dark days. I pray for a way to obey what You say, but it’s hard to stay faithful, stay joyful always. Yet, I will do my best and I’ll run in this race, and I’ll keep my pace steady, ’cause I know your grace pays. In the end, I’ll defend, like a bestest best friend, You my God, who forgives everytime and again. And again, I am grateful for that motivation, to apply what James 1 says, to also have patience. To pay close attention, the work to be done, not conform to this world, and to live as His son. Like the Son, like the sun, try to shine like the light, in the darkness I’ll fight, with His might, the good fight. And I’ll fight for the One who created this earth, and who died for my sin, I won’t belittle Your worth. Though it hurts, sometimes, I will follow Your plan, and I’ll stand, be a man that’s molded by Your hand. And I can, say I can’t, I won’t quit, I’ll defend. Live life, love, and God. Now I’ll end with “the end.”

Written because/in spite of current situations. Why in rap form? No idea.

Salsa lessons.

December 9, 2005

Dressed to kill, but you’re the one taking my breath away. And cliche is what I so am. But so is everyone else in one way or another. I’m always attempting to prove that I’ve got something or anything to prove but all I’ve ever proven is that I don’t. Nervous smiles, hopeful eyes, and unimpressive footwork. I haven’t got all the right moves. I might actually possess all the wrong ones. I’m no genius, artist, singer, or savior. I’m just another messed up kid who’ll probably turn out to be at least okay. Thing is… you aren’t just another gorgeous girl.

What did you think of tonight? “It was okay,” she replied. At least.

Winter’s come. It gets dark before I even get to wrap my head around the day. Everywhere I go, decorations of festive red & green, while jingles and melodies of Christmastime fill my ears, soothing and warm. The cold weather and brisk air brings me to life. More so than in any other season. Let’s put on our warm jackets and scarves, take long walks around the neighborhood, crushing fiery dead leaves under our feet, stopping only to admire gorgeous houses draped in radiant light that reflect this time spent with one another. Let’s talk, laugh, sing, and scream until our voices go out, so that instead of words, are just visible wisps of warm breath. I’d mouth “Are you okay?” You’d gaze at me with beautiful, violent eyes that leave me paralyzed, and smile that sincere kind of smile. The kind that says, “Yeah, I think we’re okay.”

This one’s in the works. I need chords.

I could do without all you self-righteous attention whores galavanting around in the world. I do not have sympathy(empathy?) for you. I hate the way you expect it. At the very least(or most), you’re a form of entertainment for me. I have a good chuckle at your antics, at your expense. I’m not even going to mention it’s gossip factor. Whoops, I guess I just did, but I won’t go into detail. Starving for an audience, saying and doing things that’ll get you noticed, though they also make you look like an idiot. At least do it with more poise than that. If you’re going to do something stupid for attention, don’t compromise your beliefs or yourself, especially when you judge other people. If you’re gonna preach, for God sakes, preach with conviction. (On a tangent, but wouldn’t it be God’s sake?) You’re a walking contradiction most of the time, and people hate you for that, and what little respect I DID have for you no longer exists. Here’s another tip: don’t go HALFWAY between subtlety and radical. Dying would actually do you some justice. And the sympathy you so desperately long for. Lastly, and probably more importantly, you are a moron.

Mama said knock you out. Ergh. Belligerence is evil.