Nobody’s perfect. And that’s what is so amazing. But our imperfections exist in flux. Or at least I’d like to convince myself of that.
There was something about me before that was more complete than there is now.
I can’t put my finger on it tonight… I don’t know if I ever will (maybe the absence of that ability to discern IS what’s missing) But I am more incomplete than I ever have been.
But when I write it, it seems false. I guess you can blame it on the whole dependancy on time and space.
As you get older, you grow. You progress… right? So even in this incomplete state. At the very least… I must be closer to some aspect of perfection. That’s comforting. As empty as I may feel, I can always put faith in the consistency of the inconsistent.
I feel like my peaks and valleys are off course a little bit. Like when I’m up I’m actually hoping i’m down. And All I can find is fellow peaks, not understanding the need for a valley.
When I hit my precious valley (in days, hours, months) I feel like I want to get back on the peak and enjoy the view, but we’ve all gathered in the gutter.
But if you want what you don’t have, and are always searching for an opposite?
Why do opposites never feel enough like home?
Embrace a peak when you are a peak, embrace a valley when you are low, and you should get exactly what you are asking for… Unless you’re just all out of questions.
Love songs are only beautiful when you’re in love.
You can’t just have a love song for the sake of a love song. I guess why that’s why most music is sad.
Is most music sad though?
I mean, there aren’t really a lot of songs taken seriously that are just about neutrally perfect days right?
And you can’t fuck with instrumentals. Because really instrumentals, do they exist? Probably not. I think in my mind I’ve attached enough feeling to my favourite instrumentals, that they at least remotely have ‘words’. They speak. I Think.
You aren’t always inspired by a muse as much as you have something to prove to them right? Like *This* is the one that is finally good enough. *This* is the one that will catch your eye.
Inspiration is fickle. Why is why the music, or the body of any work. Comes out sad.
Esto de olvidar es asunto serio. Es cambiar rutina, es adaptarse, es desprenderse, es cambiar de piel, es tragarse palabras, es morir y renacer. Es pasar la página a regañadientes, es ponerle punto final a fuerza… es estrujar la historia y arrancarle las lecciones. Es un déja vú continuo.