Don't dream, when you can't make it real. They're only fictions anyway - Moddi, A Sense of Grey

Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance, in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance, when you're perfectly free - Rumi

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Mar 13, 2012

Then And Now

March 2011: Full of hope and dreams and love and deep blue skies and indigo breezes arousing dreams of a utopia with a never-ending spring with birds singing songs that made me feel like I was floating on a cloud of tulips and lilacs and a smile that stopped my heart and a voice that always stood out from all the chaos in my head and a hand that held me tight so I felt I would never fall and dizziness and giddiness and that permanent, cheesy smile and the feeling that I might never come back down to earth again.

March 2012:The sky is still the same, but the blue reminds me of dark ocean depths, of loneliness and fear, of choking on my own emotions and drowning. It feels as though one day, I'll wake up and find myself at the bottom of this morbid ocean, unable to move, unable to call out for help; in a place where no one will think to look and where no one will be able to find me. And where once I thought I might fly off the ground, suddenly it feels as though I am being sucked in by a bottomless quagmire of broken dreams and silent tears.

And I want to get out. 
But I can't.