For lenge..

Nå er det en stund siden det har vært noen ordentlig ~update her, nødvendig har det heller ikke vært. Jeg har faktisk ikke skrevet en ordentlig blogg siden 5. februar... Jeg har møtt masse nye mennesker siden sist, det føles bra å få nye ting inn i hverdagen, no offense.

Forvirret er jeg også for tiden.. Eller, altså. Det begynner å komme seg nå, jeg begynner å finne ut litt av meg selv, noe som faktisk gjør ting mye lettere. Dessuten har jeg masse ting å glede meg til i fremtiden, og det fortsetter bare å bli bedre. Lovende.

Det er noen jeg kunne tenke meg å være nærmere, noen jeg gjerne skulle hatt mer avstand til. Men sånn vil det alltid være, og jeg skal ikke klage. Det er bare alt for lenge til sommeren, og jeg savner deg allerede.



pretty. odd. kommer ut i dag. absolutt verdt å kjøpe.

i'm just folkin' around.

Allow me to exaggerate a memory or two.
Where summers lasted longer than, longer than we do.
When nothing really mattered except for me to be with you.
But in time we all forgot and we all grew.

Your melody sounds as sweet, as the first time it was sung.
With a little bit more character for sure,
and by the time your father's heard of all the wrong you've done,
then I'm putting out the lantern, find your own way back home.

If I've forgotten how to sing before I've sung this song,
I'll write it all across the wall before my job is done.
And I even have the courtesy of admitting I was wrong.
As the final words before I'm dead and gone.

You've never been so divine in accepting your defeat,
and I've never been more scared to be alone.
If love is not enough to put my enemies to sleep,
then I'm putting out the lantern, find your own way back home.



HOW PRECIOUS, BRENDON BOYD URIE.

I would if I could.

Send me a box of accomplishment, mark it in red and tell him to go. Make them look away while I'm figuring myself out, they don't really care.

Do something I don't get to do, I would if I could. So tell me the latest news, I'll give you my dream. Hand it to you like I once gave you my bitter heart. Wearing my heart on my sleeve never seemed to help much, the one in black still so oblivious to the sunlight inside. Tell him to stop the rain, they can't breathe.

You know it's not the way the tree is swaying in the wind, it's the warmth from her innocence that makes him tremble. Under scrutiny he's pale, a former kiss lingers on his skin.

If the leuchantemum were white, the bluebell would live when summer died. A way to expect the unexpected, tell me I'm right. They all see your thoughts, no need to hide the path you've taken. A year ago you told me to never change, you already knew I would if I could.