We keep being reminded how small we are, how the universe dictates our fates, how they unfold and how the choices we make, aren't really ours to begin with. It illuminates how fragile and small we truly are, when the magic of creation collides with bangs and whispers of our existence. We are a generation written off and discarded as stuck in our own selfishness and in our childhood notions we should have grown out of years ago. I am the lost, the forever searching, the always dreaming boy who represents our inherent struggle to find ourselves in each other and in ourselves. I am just young enough to remember the ecstasy of reaching for the stars, old enough to know that I'll probably end up falling beneath my feet, and naive enough to never stop trying. Now I am standing on a cliff, where I swear, I can see the turn of the world, and for a fleeting moment, I am not afraid.
As another day passes me by, I am left wondering if this is what it feels like to be happy. I think I'm as close to it as I've ever been, but still, even with all the joy in my life, I can't seem to let myself be engulfed by it. Most parts of me want to burst from euphoria, but then there are also those small pieces, like insects crawling inside of me, reminding me that I'll always be the boy looking out the window, instead of being in the room. I don't know what made me into this person, and the saddest part is, I think I like being this way, and even go so far as to maintain it, to nurture it. So tell me, where does one go from here, how long do I have to climb on this mountain of mine? The future is coming at the speed of sound and if it falls apart I'll be the only one to blame, then I'll once again be that boy, the one who gets it all, just to throw it all away.
As another day passes me by, I am left wondering if this is what it feels like to be happy. I think I'm as close to it as I've ever been, but still, even with all the joy in my life, I can't seem to let myself be engulfed by it. Most parts of me want to burst from euphoria, but then there are also those small pieces, like insects crawling inside of me, reminding me that I'll always be the boy looking out the window, instead of being in the room. I don't know what made me into this person, and the saddest part is, I think I like being this way, and even go so far as to maintain it, to nurture it. So tell me, where does one go from here, how long do I have to climb on this mountain of mine? The future is coming at the speed of sound and if it falls apart I'll be the only one to blame, then I'll once again be that boy, the one who gets it all, just to throw it all away.
