On a Serious Note
Everything is going to be alright. Is what you tell yourself when things are not. You go ahead and you get a glimpse into a normal life. A snapshot. A picture tells a thousand words. 900 of them are lies. You have a really great week. And its imprint lasts for years. And you close your eyes and stare, and you can see it there. And if you reach out to touch, well, you feel it isn't fair. Doors open and close, faces come and go. Some get shut out, some stay shut in. Sometimes you grab the fucking thing just to remember what it was like. When you had a handle on things. Everything is going to be alright. It's what you say before you light a candle for the blind. For yourself. You can't even face faces gone, let alone stare a new one in the eyes. And in your life of lies, which some politely call delusions and others call dreams. You can sift through a storm of dissonance, with those pictures floating in the wind. And see in half of those photos, the memories were painted in. They were fantasies, you came to hopes and dreams. It's not cause to be distraught, as it means a lot of your fears were imagined, too. Instead of winning the lottery, you figured you were ordinary. Even susceptible to magical thinking, a symptom of mania. Never forget how good you got it, when you can rest your head and sleep.
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