My Mind is a Camera.

there was a time
where i used to look into my father's eyes
in a happy home
i was a king, i had a golden throne

my dreams are beginning to bug me again
because they involve people and things that are either
non existent
or used to be but now fade into the background of my life
like fog on windows,
hiding in the corners when the sun streams in.

real sleep seems to be hard to find lately.
even with the smell of delicious caffeine
and the glazed smile i get breathing in the aroma,
i still want to just fall back asleep
always in a dreamland,
not the reality that i live everyday.

those days are gone
now the memory's on the wall
i hear the songs
from places where i was born

i keep referring in every post
as if my mind was a machine, and a piece,
the cog that just doesn't seem to turn anymore,
breaks me down
or moves me too quickly
my mind whirring every second
every moment
until i eventually shut down,
the machine dead and overused.

i need to stop referring to myself as a machine.
i need to feel again.

but maybe the reason why i do is because machines have parts.
and i know for a fact that a part of me is missing,
gone and buried.
and whenever i try to finish the puzzle that is myself,
i'm always missing a piece or two.

i get frustrated when i can't finish anything.

upon the hill across a blue lake
that's where i had my first heartbreak
i still remember how it all changed
my father said,

"don't you worry, child
see heaven's got a plan for you
don't you worry, don't you worry now"

this year is ending way too fast
and as much as i want to return to the twinkle lights
the splashes in the swimming pool
and the girl who snorts,
i just keep picturing moments here.
so many fresh moments that i have kept
here in this small, claustrophobic dorm room.

i was certain that i wouldn't even look back.
at least that is how i felt a few months ago.
but my focuses are not on him now,
not on her now,
not even on me now.

the camera lens is zooming in on the billions of clippings on the wall
the super-villan impressions the boy made to make the girl stop crying,
the way his eyes peered at her happy, sleepy ones at quarter to sunrise.
loud obnoxious singing,
many dear and different laughs,
fights, frustrations, and frequent kit kat runs...
it's snapping pictures of it all.

this year has been lifetimes.
and i'm not sure if the machine
is still the same dangly earring'd girl
that you have come to know,
the same girl you came to love,
and the same girl you let go.

don't you worry, child
see heaven's got a plan for you
don't you worry, don't you worry now

see heaven's got a plan for you

i don't even remember what this piece was supposed to be about.
that always happens, i guess.

i'm just sitting here in "indie" clothing,
hair messed up and wet,
it's 5:43 and my roommate is asleep
and i just don't know how to end this.

i guess i don't really know how to end anything.
i always make it the other person's job.
so i won't have to deal
with the pain
or loss
or just the knowledge that it is over.

it's over.
and i think i'm ready
to forgive myself now.