before the gleam of your tailights fading east to find yourself a better life…

if i didn’t care about repetition, about half of these posts would be titled with the names of explosions in the sky songs.

but i do, so they aren’t.

I am grateful for this,
Today, the day of days.
The nowest I shall ever be,
And clearest I have ever gazed.

And such promise I saw,
Such futures I could see,
Dreams of what we are
And hopes for us to be.

And oh, all was mysticism!
All was shadow! And all was light!
For the day had come but broken,
And bled back into night.

Yet I am grateful still,
For the life that I am given,
For the air that I breathe,
For the actions I am forgiven.

And my, all was reality!
And all came clear,
And my hopes and my dreams,
Do not exist yet here.

Yet I am grateful still,
For the life that I am given,
For the air that I breathe,
For the actions I am forgiven,
For the truth I now see.

and i am thinking of what sarah said, that love is watching someone die…

Beauty was never meant to be kept by one person. And strength is not about holding on when you have to, and it is not about stopping when you must. Beauty is the abstract sense that something will change your life for the better. And strength is about holding on when you don’t have to, and stopping when no one is telling you that you must. Life is not an individual pursuit. Its aspects aren’t things to be catalogued and kept for future reference. We are nothing if not amalgamations of what life has given us. We cannot choose to separate the love from the hate, and we cannot choose to think of only beauty. We are not given the right to choose every battle. We are not given the choice of winning or losing. We are, however, given the right to choose how each battle will be fought. We can determine for ourselves, what we are fighting for.

Nous sommes tout deux victimes de ce doux jeu d’amants…

dance dance dance

yeah!

dance dance dance

yeah!

dance. dance. dance.

yeah yeah yeah yeah!

Je pense que c’est tellement vrai,
Que je t’aime et je t’adore, mais
Je serai toujours moi,
Est-ce que tu seras toujours toi ?

Le vent est déjà une belle chanson,
Nous devons dire « écoutons ! »
La musique, elle est triste et son bruit est vieux
Mais il n’y a pas une chose que j’aime mieux.