Now feel those feet. If you can.
In that cry in the middle of the battle no one is aware of. You wipe your face and keep going anyway.
Within that moment you’re sinking, you fight against the badass gravity, keeping up with your breath as you force your body to move back up to the surface from that deep water. It burns. Swim.
The minute you realise that faith in the eyes of those people is no longer there. They used to believe in you no matter how wacko it seems. You know you might fall but you find the courage you need to say fuck it. There, you go, chasing something only your eyes can see.
So much shit at stake. Hard to make a move.
But you try not to break in the world’s worst storm.
God it must be fucking hard to stay in balance despite the turbulences you didn’t see coming.
At times you look around and you find yourself pushing that giant wheel alone. Keep it rolling. Push.
Nothing left in the pocket to run that engine you think was gonna work. But you gotta beat your fears anyway. God I wish I were smarter to think of some brilliant shit, you thought.
You patronise yourself with all the wtf questions.
You forgot how many strings you have to pull to get to where you want to be and being ignored by someone you respect so much. You try to swallow the pain and walk again. Have that thickest skin.
You’ve walked far enough now.
Whatever drives you to stay awake living the dreams. You fool yourself that you are, that you know what’s next, while in reality, you find yourself stuck. Blocked in a horrible gridlock. How am I supposed to make a fucking move, you ask?
How far can you go? That mean guru asked.
You don’t know how exactly it works but you see that tiny dot one mile away from where you stand. On one hand.
Because that’s how you like to challenge yourself.
Or, you just hate how that guru looks like Severus Snape. You want it to be done, just done.
As strange as it seems, in that tiny bubble of yours, you’ve already made it. You always like to trick your mind darling.
You’d rewind those good times in your head.
You find that strength again in that smile of a mother to her children on the train. In the best street food you frequently come to. In the music that speaks to you. Those charming leaves. All the things that don’t say a word to you, you like them.
You hope. And you hope.
Holding on tightly to those dreams.
Nothing. Is. Easy. Remember?
Now do me a favour and give yourself a little pat on that shoulder, will you? For me. Please.
Smile in your own world.
Shine. Dance like a fool in that rain.
You’re a fool.
We all are.
//recording galau note #2.