The host in silence

Lying on my best friend's bed, crying uncontrollably by the weight of the things that fill my body. 
They are not sorrow tears but they certainly are for desperation. 
So many things inside me, willing to get out...
I feel so unable to return all that I feel with every book I read, every song I listen, every place I know, every person I meet. 
I've been filling my self up for a while now, and I'm starting to feel the weight of it. 
Am I even capable of letting something of it out? 
They have transformed inside me, but I don't know exactly into what. 
I feel heavy sometimes. 
So inspired, it hurts. 
So grateful for the art, it makes me break into tears.
I feel still, when I don't want to stop moving.

My best friend asks me why I cry like this. 
He looks at me, really trying to help. 
He seeks behind my watery eyes, and he asks again. 
I try with all my heart to explain him, but I understand that unfortunatly there's no way I could possibly turn this feeling into words. 
And I know that without the words, there's no way for him to understand.
This is someone who has known me for years. He even has my whole essence tattooed on his skin. 
He told me once he liked watching me taking pictures of everything. He says he knows I'm truly happy when I do that. He knows my heart. 
But not even him. I can't even ask him to understand me. 
I cry even harder. This feeling is not going away. I'm still heavy. 
My chest feels tight, and my skin is colder than usual. 
I try to feel pleasure, but I don't. 
Even though I know how beautiful these things are, pain is what comes from them. 
The pain of knowing my hands can't create. 
The pain of knowing my eyes don't see as far away as I would like them to see. 
The pain of knowing there are too many questions I will never answer. 
The pain of knowing how lonely we are in the world, as no one feels as we do.

So I think of you. 
And I know without a doubt, you're the only one who can touch the meaning of my tears.
If you were here, I would at least be able to breathe.

Now I do. 
Finally the air is slowly lifting me up.
For the only fact you are undeniably in my life.
You seek as I seek.
And I write in the language of my subconscious, probably for the last time of my master number, and I'm writing about you.
You've filled my year with your holy soul, and you've made it brighter.
I know you completely understand the intention of that "holy", and I know you're smiling right know.

We are the light.

I can't blink. I don't want to stop writing. I don't want to stop living. You know what I mean?

0 Ponycomentarios: