It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
“I’m here surviving without you. Not thriving, but surviving. In my dreams, you live here with me. And we live together, in a cute place downtown. We smoke cigarettes, and I paint. You make music, and we like our jobs.”—
I wish I could remember the name of this theory; it may simple be ‘tapestry of life’ or ‘life is a tapestry’. I wish I could remember. Some woman came up with it, I think. If you are unfamiliar with the how-tos of creating a tapestry, you’re with me. I know that it has to do with weaving, and that the back of them are ugly? Maybe. I feel like the tapestry of life is screwed up. Something like knots and knots and even bigger knots that didn’t go as planned, but on the opposing side there is a picture of yourself. The makings are inside of you. Thoughts? Idk.
When you feel too much and your heart beats fast with too much emotion and your fingers tingle. You can’t sleep but you can’t stay awake and everything’s loud.Your thoughts are loud and people are loud, but it doesn’t make sense because there aren’t any people. You’re just feeling too much and nothing really makes sense because you’re missing the thing you want most, the thing that came and went all too soon. Stayed just long enough to create noise in your head.
“you know when sand slips through your fingers, and some particles may blow off of your joined hands into the wind? that’s sort of like happiness. bits drift away, slowly, and then all of a sudden it falls through cracks gradually at first, then rapidly and you can’t catch it… I guess you can only pick up another pile of happiness, as it happens again”—
I feel like I come up with the best ideas, and if someone would pitch in with me we could accomplish them .. but maybe my ideas are too bold for those who I share them with. Always some kind of excuse .. the more the days go on, the more I realize that I’m supposed to run wild alone. No wolf pack for me. Right?
I’ve heard that life is separated into seasons. Season to work, season to rest, season to learn, and so forth. I call this season the ‘season to be miserable’ because I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.