Mavry Potts
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Alright, I want to make it clear to both you and me. To me you don't exist, you're a faceless creature. I wouldn't expect you to think any more of me. How are you to know that I exist? How are you to know I'm not just some android typing this down. Now if we meet in real life you would believe I was real, right? You can see and touch me I'm real, right? I should believe the same about you, right? I should, yes I should, but as expected I don't. See how am I supposed to know if I'm delusional and I'm not creating you? How are you supposed to know that you aren't the only human? What if none of this is real, just a figment of your imagination? What if you are the last human alive and you passed out and your mind created the perfectly fantasy world? Now your reason for this being false might be something like why would I want all these problems? I have an explanation for that too, see our problems nowadays are pitiful and nonexistent to your future self and in some ways you enjoy them. You find your current life simple and ideal and all you ever wanted. There is another question that arises, why won't I wake up? Well maybe when you passed out you died, so you won't ever wake up. Honestly there are too many faults to this hypothesis for it to be valid, but it still brings up the question, "What if?"
Here's something I wrote over a year ago. I like looking back sometimes.
And the blackness never dies, When light is alive, And good can't survive, Without evil by its side. And stars only shine, From our past long ago, And the moon is a lie, Just a reflection of the sun. And yes, I repeated several times, For my mind is ruled by one thing, That we never see what is really going on, Because we all died a mili seconds ago. And there is a bird's cage, Sitting on top of sharp rocks, And if the bird barely moves it dies, And in the black of night the bird moves. And acting is hard, Words with emotion flow through soft lips, And yet some, They are just metal lips. Hermia and Lysander weren't meant to be, If they were Puck wouldn't have been able, To sway them so easily, So they weren't meant to be. Magic is easy, Love never so, Blackness is impenetrable, Light not much so. And the prettiest of flowers, Grow out of sight, And the kindest of voices, Never make a sound. And so in the blackness, We all must die, For in the brightness, We all just hide. It's been a while since I've just sat down and wrote. Since I've just blocked out everything else and wrote. To rant about how bad life really is. It's been a while since I've been able to tell the truth. The words "I'm fine," always seem to escape my mouth. The worst part is people accept it. They're all okay with me just saying, "I'm fine," and no one treads farther. I don't have a clue why not. Whenever someone says something so bland to me, I automatically suspect that it isn't true. I always try to force the truth out of them. No one is ever just fine, or good for that matter; those words are used as excuses and costumes to cover the truth. I can't truly explain what every single person means when they say it because everyone has their own pot of troubles brewing. I can't relate to anyone. Honestly, I'm not the best at that, but I still try. The problem with trying to relate to someone is it hurts them more, and more. It's like stabbing someone in the gut and thinking they'll be okay. You might believe that trying to relate helps -- and I guess it might with some people — but it has never worked for me. I guess what I'm trying to say is just because when you ask someone, "How are you doing?" doesn't mean they will tell you the truth. Dig a little deeper and it might do you both some good.
I chose to sit here
I chose to be here Why would I choose this Why would I do this? I chose to be me I chose to be free Why would I live this Why would I survive? You chose to live life You chose to live free Why would you do this Why would you believe? You chose to hold on You chose to keep on Why would you prevail Why would you succeed? I chose to not let go I chose to hold on tight Why wouldn't I choose to give up Why wouldn't I choose to fall deep? I chose to not wonder I chose to not be bound Why wouldn't I be the real me Why wouldn't I be the free me? You chose to not murder You chose to not give in Why wouldn't you choose to fall Why wouldn't you choose freedom? You chose to not conquer You chose to not battle Why wouldn't you battle it, why Why wouldn't you stay here with me? I get it It was a losing battle You were not meant to win Not meant to survive that long So I get that you laid down your sword I get it. |
Mavry PottsPosts every Monday and/or Wednesday Archives
December 2017
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