so you can't hold a star in your hand

it turns out i have no self-discipline. either i was born without it or i'm just pulling the wool over my own eyes. or the cotton, because i can still see through it. i just act blind.

self-discipline has nothing to do with it; who the hell am i kidding? my friends offer me encouragement, or distract me, and i'm oh-so-thankful; genuinely i am. but i learn by my own negative method. similar to the philosophical definition of 'removing everything that it is not until it is', you remove all negative-positive energy. don't tell me it'll be alright, don't tell me things will work themselves out, don't tell me i'm doing the right thing. news flash: i'm not.

you put me down. tell it to me straightforward--don't be afraid to be blunt. be hurtful, a little, if it'll help. if i can't see that i'm not reaching the destination, i'll keep walking around in the clouds, unaware that the solid earth is miles beneath me and oops--haven't exactly brought my wings for this (the feathers keep molting). i thought i was flying, or floating, but i'm falling. oh look, the rocks......

tell me to do it. threaten me. give me an ultimatum. throw cold water on me and i'll wake up from whatever-the-hell i was tripping on when i thought it would be okay on its own. my own mother taught me well...she's the only one who tells me things like that on a daily basis (as if it were milk on the shopping list--always needed). and lo and utter behold, i snap to attention and set my nose to the grindstone (i wonder why it still points up?). otherwise, i'm "planted still"...i can't move, i can't move on. way it's always been, way it always will be, i expect.

--move? move where?

i have a destination. i have a goal. i aim to get there--you don't know how it is here. you want to stay in this town, because it ain't too small and it ain't too big; because it is nice after all, and you know people here. but right beneath my skin is a sensation, one that i've grown used to over the growing months since i've been freed from secondary schooling. it's a strong, buzzing sensation, and when i'm reminded of the reasons why i actually hate this town, it growls. it's a hunger and a thirst. a song and yet an antici...

...PATED silence. it gives me grief for being rooted to the spot and growing joy for the time yet to come. it fights me down when yet another external source, related to this place, cuts me in the knife fight, and builds me up when i accomplish one centimeter of the entire 300-400 miles (mountains included) separating me from said dream. it makes my hair stand up on end when i hear the word, and instantly i'm transported to visions, snapshots, only flickers of moments of hours in the days i've actually spent there. there are so many things standing in the way, and yet don't you see?

i have to get there.
have to.
have to get there.
GET THERE.

it's screaming through; almost radiant light bursting through every pore in my skin, i'm surprised i don't dazzle in the sunlight! clawing my way there! knocking everything down in my path (i have to GET THERE!)! almost in the palm of my hand, which is glowing! GLOWING! LIGHTS!! i head for the light, i must get to THOSE LIGHTS!!!!







"rusted wheel planted still
rusted wheel can't move on"



where is the growling?
subsided.

i had my moment, my vision. plant my feet, now, on the good earth. walk through everything else first. know where you're going before you get there.

"so you can’t hold a star in your hand though
at least you can hold on to another plan"

-d