Tuesdaystreamofconsciousness

19 years of life experience produce nothing but exhausted graphite scribblings and a recipe for inedibly stale bread. Dough that’s already molded before it hits the oven. What do I have to say for myself? I’ve been free falling through life and pain and only noticed the noose once I’d reached the end of my rope. Time to Tarzan swing to the next one, I guess. It’s too bad I’m an airplane. I wasn’t designed to navigate a jungle of trees. What do I have to say to everyone else? Nothing. I’m just as lost as you are; trying to fit 7 billion cylinders into 7 billion different square holes. Nothing fits. I’ve been writing for 5 years now and all my notebooks have as much to say empty as they do full. Words are just bridges over endlessly troubled waters. My only wish is to help someone else more than I’ve helped me.

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Clementine

by Sarah Jaffe

50 states 50 lines 50 crying all the time’s

50 boys 50 lies 50 I’m gonna change my mind’s

I changed my mind

Now I’m feeling different

We were young, we didn’t care

Is it gone? Is it floating in the air?

I changed my mind

Now I’m feeling different

All that time wasted I wish I was a little more delicate

I wish my name was Clementine

Marchin’ On

By OneRupublic

For those days we felt like a mistake
Those times when loves what you hate
Somehow,
We keep marching on

For those nights that I couldn’t be there,
I’ve made it harder to know that you know
That somehow
We’ll keep movin’ on

There’s so many wars we fought
There’s so many things we’re not
But with what we have
I promise you that,
We’re marchin’ on
We’re marchin’ on

For all of the plans we’ve made,
There isn’t a flag I’d wave,
Don’t care if we bend,
I’d sink us to swim,
We’re marching on

For those doubts that swirl all around us,
For those lives that tear at the seams,
We know we’re not what we’ve seen,

For this dance we’ll move with each other.
There ain’t no other step than one foot
Right in front of the other

We’ll have the days we break,
And we’ll have the scars to prove it,
We’ll have the bonds that we save,
But we’ll have the heart not to lose it.

For all of the times we’ve stopped,
For all of the things I’m not.

We put one foot in front of the other,
We move like we ain’t got no other,
We go where we go, we’re marching on.

Thoughts at 3 AM

I haven’t yet come to grips with reality. Cause and effect I believe in, but I’m reluctant to accept that anything I say or do has any impact. It’s easier to try not feel at all, than to admit that life has more control over me than I do of it. I’m merely a puddle from a scattered shower, so easily evaporated, licked up by passing animals, or drained into the nearest, larger, more significant body of water. My splash affects as equally as it’s vanquished by the bottom of a shoe.

At least, that’s what I’d like to believe. Thinking I won’t live long enough to see the consequences, I don’t follow the advice of my elders. I listen to loud music, read in the dark, neglect sunscreen, etc. I refuse to sacrifice present freedom for an imaginary future comfort that isn’t guaranteed to anyone.

I am not an active member of my community. I don’t vote. I don’t get regular flu shots. I don’t read the paper or watch the news. I don’t participate in holidays. I don’t like to watch sports. I don’t even own a smartphone or use a GPS to get around.

I’m not attached to my possessions. It’s not that I don’t believe in thievery. I’m not naive, I simply choose to focus more on what is than what could be. I like roller coasters, and feel very strongly that fullness of life comes when disaster is not feared but embraced as a part of learning and experiencing.

I fully believe I’ll live to see the end of the world.

I wonder if I’m alone but the thought is fleeting. It’s preposterous and pretentious for someone to believe that in a world of 8 billion people- with more coming and going every second- I’m the only one capable of original thought.

My best thoughts come at 3 AM when either my broken heart is keeping me up or I’m too tired to pick up a pen. Most of my head is cluttered with debris, and so many of my trains of thought are swept away and buried again before I can catch them. They almost never make the same stop twice. Always in motion I must remain. If I let the dust and ashes of my mind settle around me I’d be buried right alongside all my forgotten dreams and half formed ideas.