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literature
Just a bunch of insane thoughts~
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Literature Text
A wild excitement, a crescendo, an extreme surge that urges every little bit of you to focus but all you can do and deliver is the pain and sadness that you brought upon your own soul.
There are moments when this life we live in doesn't make sense, if it's supposed to make any sense either way. One day a piece like winter wind can keep you in trance and fuck you up real bad to the point where you almost get hit by a car and yet you crave for it, you want more even though you have heard the piece over a hundred times. Does this make me some kind of masochist? I always wondered yet never really cared to really finish what I had started I mean who would?
This music, this experience that transcended me into a special kind of utopia and yet.
YET, it still hurts. Every time I hear that violin strike with elegance it hurts my heart more than it should and I get left with a feeling of emptiness and something I would almost call joy. I win, I win, I win, I win is what I keep telling myself. I get a piano, I get to play that fucker and I'll be happy right?
IF that's the so called truth why am I writing this and why do I keep doing this to myself. When you enter this world of crescendo's and decrescendo's there is no way back. There is only you, the fake serenity that this god forsaken music brings with it and your focus that slowly fades away.
There is this piece and just imagine that I am typing at half the speed I usually type at because it somehow irritates me how slow this piece is. I have grown an addiction towards pieces that are extremely energetic, uplifting and overall a boost to your sanity. Yet these same pieces bring me this misfortune because they mix with so much feelings. Right after this shit show ends I don't know what hit me but I felt the necessity to type, type as fast as I could and at least to the pace of the piece I was listening to it was uplifting, a distraction of what was keeping me at bay the few seconds before, I know these are just normal thoughts that make me seem like I'm busy trying to be a goddamn snowflake making typo's I don't know what I'm doing at this point but this piece, also known as the ballad of a lifetime has caught me in its systematic rambling with a beat that spreads like a virus It remains unbelievable how this gets me out of my depressing moments and in a better mood overall but best above all giving me something to type about without making the amount of typo's I usually make I am at at least five hundred words and I am not sure whether I should continue typing or try if its done. After the ballad had ended I entered something more hostile, while the ballad was uplifting this piece clamped me yet it was done before I knew it. It was a false lie of immortality and the need to be different.
There are moments when this life we live in doesn't make sense, if it's supposed to make any sense either way. One day a piece like winter wind can keep you in trance and fuck you up real bad to the point where you almost get hit by a car and yet you crave for it, you want more even though you have heard the piece over a hundred times. Does this make me some kind of masochist? I always wondered yet never really cared to really finish what I had started I mean who would?
This music, this experience that transcended me into a special kind of utopia and yet.
YET, it still hurts. Every time I hear that violin strike with elegance it hurts my heart more than it should and I get left with a feeling of emptiness and something I would almost call joy. I win, I win, I win, I win is what I keep telling myself. I get a piano, I get to play that fucker and I'll be happy right?
IF that's the so called truth why am I writing this and why do I keep doing this to myself. When you enter this world of crescendo's and decrescendo's there is no way back. There is only you, the fake serenity that this god forsaken music brings with it and your focus that slowly fades away.
There is this piece and just imagine that I am typing at half the speed I usually type at because it somehow irritates me how slow this piece is. I have grown an addiction towards pieces that are extremely energetic, uplifting and overall a boost to your sanity. Yet these same pieces bring me this misfortune because they mix with so much feelings. Right after this shit show ends I don't know what hit me but I felt the necessity to type, type as fast as I could and at least to the pace of the piece I was listening to it was uplifting, a distraction of what was keeping me at bay the few seconds before, I know these are just normal thoughts that make me seem like I'm busy trying to be a goddamn snowflake making typo's I don't know what I'm doing at this point but this piece, also known as the ballad of a lifetime has caught me in its systematic rambling with a beat that spreads like a virus It remains unbelievable how this gets me out of my depressing moments and in a better mood overall but best above all giving me something to type about without making the amount of typo's I usually make I am at at least five hundred words and I am not sure whether I should continue typing or try if its done. After the ballad had ended I entered something more hostile, while the ballad was uplifting this piece clamped me yet it was done before I knew it. It was a false lie of immortality and the need to be different.
Alright I know I haven't uploaded in quite some time and the only reason for that being was that I didn't feel like writing as well as school creeping towards me.
© 2016 - 2024 SirJestahLot
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