Earlier this evening, I was having a conversation with an old friend from high school. Her and her boyfriend have been dating for almost 4 years now. At first, she did not want to date him but my other friend and I told her to just give him a chance. Well, she did give him that chance. Four years later, they are happier than they could ever be. But, the point of this story is this:
She told me tonight, that her boyfriend has grown up a lot since I had last seen him. She said that he has turned into this country boy who always wears plaid shirts (or no shirt), cowboy boots, and that he always sings country songs. She also told me that sometimes, he will clean out his garage, turn on country music, and slow dance with her while singing quietly along in her ear.
Now to me, this is pure perfection. Why aren't there more cute, country boys out there who are as romantic as this?
I'm actually kind of jealous. =/
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Cinderella.
I have this fairytale woven into the crevices of my brain.
It allows me to travel to magnificent places and dream extraordinary things.
The life I yearn for is tangled up in this little imaginary ball of string.
This ball grows incessantly, forming a tumor.
It is a cancerous tumor – slowly suffocating my reality: inhibiting me from growing and living an honest life.
Hydrochloric acid replaces the blood in my brain, surging through it like water out of a faucet.
Attempting to kill this tumor, I scream while tears are rolling down my warm, red cheeks.
I want to carve it out with a jagged knife, just so I can sew it back up.
I want it to leave a scar, I want to remember.
I want to finally be capable of recognizing and appreciating the beauty in each day that I am alive.
I have been living a lie for as long as I can remember; trying to make my reality live up to the marvelous ideas inside my head, and everyday fell short.
I want to be reminded to care for my imagination as if it were a child; I need to tend to it daily, making sure it's not strong enough to overpower me.
I need to live in reality, and I think I'm finally getting there.
It allows me to travel to magnificent places and dream extraordinary things.
The life I yearn for is tangled up in this little imaginary ball of string.
This ball grows incessantly, forming a tumor.
It is a cancerous tumor – slowly suffocating my reality: inhibiting me from growing and living an honest life.
Hydrochloric acid replaces the blood in my brain, surging through it like water out of a faucet.
Attempting to kill this tumor, I scream while tears are rolling down my warm, red cheeks.
I want to carve it out with a jagged knife, just so I can sew it back up.
I want it to leave a scar, I want to remember.
I want to finally be capable of recognizing and appreciating the beauty in each day that I am alive.
I have been living a lie for as long as I can remember; trying to make my reality live up to the marvelous ideas inside my head, and everyday fell short.
I want to be reminded to care for my imagination as if it were a child; I need to tend to it daily, making sure it's not strong enough to overpower me.
I need to live in reality, and I think I'm finally getting there.
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