Listening
to the old ballads, I found myself again…
That part
of me that is sane, and unbroken…
I had a
life once. Before I became the one I am today.
Look…
that’s me with the gals, we were single and free.
In our
hearts were friendships, and dreams of tomorrow…
It was as
simple as struggles among math, chemistry and physics
And a
little bit of crush for a boy at a time…
The only
desires were holding hands, walking home together, and sitting side by side
But the
most important things were quality time with the gals, with whom I felt
accepted, and normal.
Medication
and Teenage Dirt Bag were the songs. They were our affirmation, that we were
alright. That we weren’t freaks. Or unwanted aliens.
Those days…
where imagination flourished like tall grass in the deep woods. When the days
were long. And the nights were young..
T’was the
time, where expectations were great, but not harmful. T’was the moment where I
felt good about myself. I knew I was different, but in a good way. I was
special.
Make
believe is the thing that kept me through my days. It’s so amazing how easy it
was to imagine things. To be happy just by imagining happy things…
Ah, those
moments… those winning moments…
What have
happened in between? It’s so… empty now. Is the sun setting on me already?
Is this as
far as I can go?
As if
imaginations have run dry. I’ve seen all the facts there is to see… And
expectations turn into the devil who haunts my days, relentlessly attempting to
snatch my peace of mind…
The
happiness of a child… I’d give anything to have it. If only I could turn back
time. Or if I could run away from these ugly truth, go back to the fantasies
where fairies are real and a prince charming is waiting to take my hand for a
happily ever after…
