Thursday, January 14, 2010

A feeling of Discontent

The following song would be the perfect soundtrack to this dream I once had:

Crack The Shutters by Snow Patrol

You cool your bedwarm hands down
On the broken radiator

When you lay them freezing on me
I mumble can you wake me later

But I don't really want you to stop

And you know it so it doesn't stop you

You run your hands from my neck
To my chest

Crack the shutters open wide

I want to bathe you in the light of day

And just watch you as the rays

Tangle up around your face and body

I could sit here for hours

Finding new ways to be awed each minute

'Cause the daylight seems to want you

Just as much as I want you

Its been minutes Its been days,

I remember all I will remember

Happy lost in your hair

And the cold side of the pillow

Your hills and valleys

Are mapped by my intrepid fingers

And in a naked slumber

I dream all this again



I went to school in my father's car today because mine wouldn't start. I try not to drive that car because I get really conscious doing so, like my dad himself is sitting with me whilst I drive. It's awkward but the radio works. It was a shitty morning but the song made it nice.
Now my whole day would have went well had I heard the song without a shitty day to return to. So now you end up pissed tired and feeling like you should feel miserable but actually feel nice and fuzzy inside. Which makes you question your sanity in the short term.
What happens during that is that something in your mind seems out of place and you have no idea what that deficiency feeling is all about. Like you're lacking something or missing it. You can't identify it but you wish you could fix your serotonin levels with a slap to the head. It doesn't work so you tend to enthusiastically take up vague projects that you know you'll never complete. But anything to pass the time. It gets worse and you start getting shifty and your heart beat gets louder and more irregular. Your span of attention has now turned to a crab which scurries away as soon as it spots anything and you beg to God for peace of mind.

Sometimes, all you ever wish for is the Snow Patrol song to go forever. Irony goes well with the metallic taste in your mouth.

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