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Health to the Company, Kiss my (L)a**!
"Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme
Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine
Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may and might never all meet here again
Here's a health to the company and one to my lass
Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass
Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may and might never all meet here again
Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well
Her style and her beauty, sure none can excel
There's a smile upon her countenance as she sits on my knee
Sure there's no one in in this wide world as happy as we
Our ship lies at harbor, she's ready to dock
I hope she's safe landed without any shock
If ever we should meet again by land or by sea
I will always remember your kindness to me
Here's a health to the company and one to my lass
Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass
Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may and might never all meet here again "
I remember the words now. It took a bit of thought and a google search, but I found them. I don't know why, but after a rather emotionally devoid day of school I'm now suddenly getting teary-eyed. Maybe it was reading over old entries, realizing how much things change and how short of a time. Severed ties, shattered emotions raining down around the battle-field of my heart as if a torrent of blood. But there I go again, contradicting my new description.
People aren't very considerate... Even those I hang out with. Sure there's the obvious ones that can be dicks, but a couple of them, I started to trust. Strange as it may seem, I guess. It's not like it was betrayed or anything, but I recalled a psychological game I played. It painted a picture of how I see myself in my environment. My friends, it said, were kept at arm's length. That's true, and when some of the hypocrisy leaks forth from their lips, it reminds me of why I keep my friends there. That way it really doesn't hurt so much when those daggers are uttered again.
People b***h and say get over it all the time. "Just get out of that train of thought." If it were that motheh ********' easy, that same person wouldn't wake up crying after dreaming about a crush she thought she was over. In that way, some of them are just like my parents. They hold me to some standard that's beyond their grasp as well as mine and look down upon me as they fail in greater measure to meet it than I do. Yet... some of them never fail to disappoint. The one's I don't expect a word of comfort from can't make their daggers fly true. And on the apocalyptic day that one such word is uttered, it actually lifts my spirits. Cheers to them. It seems no matter how tiring some of their antics grow, I still somehow fit in with all of them...
It's nice to be recognized. But it grows tiring. I can scarcely walk down the halls anymore with out a chorus of "Fluffy!" following me. It's nice to be loved, but it becomes void after a while. Mayhaps that is why 'tis so easy for my to shrug off some of my feelings. When they grow so monotonous that things don't seem right with out them. Like something is missing. But that feeling of something missing has become the monotony. So to shrug off the melancholy from every where else, I leave myself only longing. Longing for something that goes with out a name, with out a face. A notion that exists beyond the words that could be used to define it... a longing for that, that which I know not.
People instantly look at that last paragraph and think it's love. ******** love. Everyone needs it, but it's only but one missing piece of the puzzle that is me. A place to belong? I have that. Religion? That one can go shove itself up its a** to. I may not be an atheist, but I still don't practice strongly. And any attempt to get on any sort of religious track just loosens what little footing I've gained. Stress release, perhaps? That is what this bloody rant is. But that's still not it. Could it be truth? Or maybe that the truth is so different from what I have, as different as white to black. Yes. That's what I long for. Understanding. Why everything that happens always falls just shy of where I aimed, one failure after the next, never straying any closer to my mark. Only wandering further from it from time to time. Or is it just a longing for things to return to the way they were. The way they were in the days that I cherished. Before more scars line out friendships. Back before scars ever lined my wrist. Before my scar ran across state to Fenton. Before the first scar on me was inflicted. Before I was unhappy. Back when life was simple. When I was simple...
"We may and might never all meet here again."
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Community Member
~Timo