I don’t want to get up. Why would I even think about it, at four AM on a Saturday? I don’t know. Something just calls. Scorpio, it whispers, Come to me. Come to me, and tu will be free.
Who are you? Where do I go? I call out sleepily. The shout is only in my head, but I feel it goes out into the darkness all the same.
You will know, Scorpio. tu will know what to do. Go to the river, it beckons. So I teeter down the stairs, fully clothed, in a dreamlike state.
What kind of crazy person am I? I ask myself. Not an unreasonable question, considering I’m going to a river because a voice in my head told me to. This is the kind of thinking that sends tu to an insane asylum. But still, I plod forward, opening the door quietly, and stepping over our threshold. Barefoot.
Wandering down the street, I see the moon shining over me, above me, in the sky. I am following the moon, closer to the universe than ever before. Soon, I am standing on the parte superior, arriba of The Bridge Over Skywater.
The Skywater River was named in Native American times, my father told me when I was young. Back then, it was called, “Buegoneguig”, which is Chippewa for “hole in the sky”. I guess they held ceremonies here o something. I would. Anyone would, had they seen the way the stars sparkled on its surface that night. It was like the sky was calling to me. The water called with it. Together, they beckoned me out onto the water.
I stood on the edge of the bridge, my toes curled around the edge. I let the power of the night lap over me, like the water at the river’s banks. And I dove.
I didn’t think, I just jumped. The cold water engulfed me. The light of the moon shone upon me as I resurfaced, feeling stronger than I ever had. The river’s pull didn’t seem to try and take me anywhere, just freezing this moment, perfect, of a girl in a river under a silver sky.
Who are you? Where do I go? I call out sleepily. The shout is only in my head, but I feel it goes out into the darkness all the same.
You will know, Scorpio. tu will know what to do. Go to the river, it beckons. So I teeter down the stairs, fully clothed, in a dreamlike state.
What kind of crazy person am I? I ask myself. Not an unreasonable question, considering I’m going to a river because a voice in my head told me to. This is the kind of thinking that sends tu to an insane asylum. But still, I plod forward, opening the door quietly, and stepping over our threshold. Barefoot.
Wandering down the street, I see the moon shining over me, above me, in the sky. I am following the moon, closer to the universe than ever before. Soon, I am standing on the parte superior, arriba of The Bridge Over Skywater.
The Skywater River was named in Native American times, my father told me when I was young. Back then, it was called, “Buegoneguig”, which is Chippewa for “hole in the sky”. I guess they held ceremonies here o something. I would. Anyone would, had they seen the way the stars sparkled on its surface that night. It was like the sky was calling to me. The water called with it. Together, they beckoned me out onto the water.
I stood on the edge of the bridge, my toes curled around the edge. I let the power of the night lap over me, like the water at the river’s banks. And I dove.
I didn’t think, I just jumped. The cold water engulfed me. The light of the moon shone upon me as I resurfaced, feeling stronger than I ever had. The river’s pull didn’t seem to try and take me anywhere, just freezing this moment, perfect, of a girl in a river under a silver sky.
I'm setting here looking at a paused televisión screen and i soon think to myself is that the way that our life is life when we are put on hold.
If tht's the case then why are we not able to do the work that we have been meant to do forever,
how can the people in our lives trust us for the decisions that we make in our daily lives that we live.
are we really meant to be th people that we are meant to be o are we just passing through this earth with no-where to go but down, that is what i think about when i see a paused tv.
so what do tu think about this journal entry that i just wrote tu need to think about what i dicho and give me your best anwsers that tu can give.
thnx erie morgan maples
If tht's the case then why are we not able to do the work that we have been meant to do forever,
how can the people in our lives trust us for the decisions that we make in our daily lives that we live.
are we really meant to be th people that we are meant to be o are we just passing through this earth with no-where to go but down, that is what i think about when i see a paused tv.
so what do tu think about this journal entry that i just wrote tu need to think about what i dicho and give me your best anwsers that tu can give.
thnx erie morgan maples
Why, do things have to be so hard
In life?
Why can't things be easy
And everyone could just enjoy
Their short lives.
Betrayed
por an old friend
por an old boyfriend
It feels like the whole world
Has gone on the enemy's side
Why do things have to be so complicated?
Tears are rolling down my cheek
As life goes on,
That's what I do.
Because I feel unused, unhelpful, abandoned.
Life goes on
And even though I try
To shrug off the troubles I have had in the past,
Smiling,
Inside, I am extremely hurt
Stabbed por my own friends
I am deserted
Even though I smile
I am hurt
I am betrayed.
In life?
Why can't things be easy
And everyone could just enjoy
Their short lives.
Betrayed
por an old friend
por an old boyfriend
It feels like the whole world
Has gone on the enemy's side
Why do things have to be so complicated?
Tears are rolling down my cheek
As life goes on,
That's what I do.
Because I feel unused, unhelpful, abandoned.
Life goes on
And even though I try
To shrug off the troubles I have had in the past,
Smiling,
Inside, I am extremely hurt
Stabbed por my own friends
I am deserted
Even though I smile
I am hurt
I am betrayed.
Hate.Disappointment.Regret.They all make up some of the worst thing in our lives...then why can't we just give it up?Give it up and just throw all our problems away?The answer is simple because this,this is reality not a fairytale o some fiction story,where the writer can just have their way over their characters like puppets.No.Not at all in reality does one have their way to control their life o the lies that people tell them.There's no stopping your troubles in life o changing the regret you've made in the past ...it's life.