they never did tell you what was in store. no, you were too lost in endless summer. trips to the five and dime for candy sticks of cherry red and superballs. life was open, wide, and went far as your eye could see. you remember the little red radio playing Brandy, as you struggled to get comfortable from your sunburned skin, and you fell asleep thinking about Andy Gibb...
you push through the muck of middle school but still end up the third wheel. and now the cliques begin...blondes with blondes, potheads with druggies, and couples making out between buildings... you begin to realize you don't fit.
what you know now is that noone does.
we're all bubbled people. mostly living in our heads. we drive the car, go to work, pay the bills, buy the groceries and ignore how sad we are. there are stars out there though. walking in silence and doing. busy writing our sad songs, finding melodies that will bring the tears down. their words conquer my mute. their photos massage the heart.
i want to live. and wanting things is not living.
i want to be. and not following my bliss keeps me lost.
i want to think like a child wide with wonder, carrying endless summers and too long crushes in my heart... superball in my pocket.