Why keep it in when you can scream it out?
You know what? I’m tired. I’m tired of hearing you tell me about how we’re here to live, to not merely exist. You know why? Because sometimes, “merely existing” is the best you can do; it’s probably the bravest thing you’ll ever have to do.
To continue to strive (oh very well, you got me there, try to strive) on the path that you’ve chosen,
Though the reason why you chose it seems to have become blurry, and you begin to doubt if it’s even worth it all
Like you’ve gone boating in a lake, it’s dusk, and the fog is creeping in on you
When you try to pedal your pedal boat faster, sure you’ll make it to the pier
But suddenly, you look around, you notice that the fog has wrapped its tight pale, smothering arms around you tight,
And you’re utterly, hopelessly lost.
When there’s politics among friends,
When there’s politics within Uni,
When there’s politics between the students and the management,
Where studying isn’t a virtue no more,
Where being alone means automatically that you’re lonely,
Where reading a book for pleasure is equal parts of absurd and shocking,
And then there’s you,
Trying to walk, stumbling really,
Across the rocky underbelly of a river long dried up and gone
Falling, crawling, brushing away the scrapes and scratches,
On your father’s old sweatshirt
The world only seeing the ratty, frayed, threadbare wool with its stitches splitting at the seams,
And not the sentiment bubbling beneath, almost calling out to someone, anyone who can look past the outside, who’s willing to give a chance to what’s on the inside.
Breathing isn’t easy when you feel like you’re choking for air,
Like you’re being pulled down by this quagmire,
Desperately trying to reach out, to hold on to something, anything,
But hands seem to let go just as suddenly as they caught yours.
Still going along,
With a repertoire of cultivated sarcasm,
With a never ending (despite how hard you try to quash it) hope,
That you’ll find someone who’ll hold on,
With fountain pens to put your thoughts into writing before they take over your mind,
With guilty pleasures like Downton Abbey and Pride and Prejudice and whatever others are a “few of your favorite things”
That they’ll get you through…they have to,
Is not “merely existing”
It’s a battle you’re fighting,
And by God you’re giving it your best shot!
So, this is a tribute,
Not to the dreamers,
Not to those who are in that strange world of “living”,
No, this is a salute,
To those who are existing.
Even if we cannot seek out this wretched “living”,
We’ll find our paradise one day, we’ll call it something too!
But hey! We’re in a strange and beautiful place already,
This “here and now”; filled with short, static bursts of pain, laughter, hurt, friendship, love, tears, oh my!
A roller coaster of “feeling”
Surely its downs and ups are more thrilling than simply floating on the “Happy” river?
And guess what?
That’s what really counts.