12/04/2011
Έρχονται στιγμές που κάνεις λάθος επιλογές, που εμπιστεύεσαι λάθος άτομα, που πληγώνεσαι, αγαπάς και ερωτεύεσαι. Όλα είναι μία ρόδα που γυρνάει και καταλήγει σχεδόν(έστω για μένα)στο ίδιο άσχημο τέλος.Θέλοντας λοιπόν να αλλάξω αυτήν την διαδρομή της ρόδας, ξεκινάω αλλάζοντας πρώτα τον εαυτό μου. Μειώνω και φτιάχνω τα ελαττώματα μου, κάνω επιλογές με πιο λογικά κριτήρια, διορθώνω λάθη μέσα από τα οποία έμαθα.Πάνω απ'όλα όμως, δεν γυρνάω πίσω, στα παλιά. Όσο και αν το λέω, θέλει υπομονή για να φτιάξω την ζωή μου όπως εγώ θέλω και όχι όπως θέλουν οι άλλοι. Όπως μου είπε ένα άτομο, ότι δεν σε σκοτώνει σε κάνει πιο δυνατό.Αντιμετωπίζεις φόβους που είχες, δυσκολίες, μέχρι και το πιο παραμικρό. Πάντα έβρισκα υπερβολικά τα άτομα που έλεγαν μεγάλες κουβέντες, αλλά η ζωή είναι μικρή και μέσα σε αυτή μπορείς να ζήσεις τα πάντα, αν και το μόνο σίγουρο είναι πως κάποτε, η ζωή θα τελειώσει και αυτό είναι γραφτό να γίνει.. μέχρι τότε προσπαθώ να γίνω καλύτερος άνθρωπος και να χαρώ ό,τι μπορώ. Αν με ρωτούσε κάποιος τι θα επιθυμούσα τώρα, θα ήταν μια αγκαλιά. Όπως και να είμαι χαρούμενη είτε λυπημένη αυτό είναι που με κάνει να νιώθω ολοκληρωμένη μέσα μου, γιατί ξέρω πως δεν είμαι κενή μέσα μου αφού κάποιος με συμπληρώνει με μια αγκαλιά.Τώρα είμαι κενή, αλλά προσπαθώ να γεμίσω ο,τι λείπει, ξέροντας πως θα έρθει η στιγμή που κι εγώ θα πάρω αυτό που μου αξίζει ή έστω θα γυρίσει πίσω..
Τρίτη 12 Απριλίου 2011
Leave me out with the waste this is not what I'd do.It's the wrong kind of place
to be thinking of you.It's the wrong time for somebody new, it's a small crime and I've got no excuse..Is that alright?Give my gun away when it's loaded Is that alright? If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it Is that alright? Give my gun away when it's loaded Is that alright..with you?Leave me out with the waste
this is not what I'd do..It's the wrong kind of place to be cheating on you it's the wrong time..She's pulling me through it's a small crime and I've got no excuse..Is that alright with you?No.
to be thinking of you.It's the wrong time for somebody new, it's a small crime and I've got no excuse..Is that alright?Give my gun away when it's loaded Is that alright? If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it Is that alright? Give my gun away when it's loaded Is that alright..with you?Leave me out with the waste
this is not what I'd do..It's the wrong kind of place to be cheating on you it's the wrong time..She's pulling me through it's a small crime and I've got no excuse..Is that alright with you?No.
Κυριακή 10 Απριλίου 2011
I really hate Sundays.Sunday nights are slow surrender.
It never lasts and we never learn we can still make this one to remember.It’s Sunday night and we’ve time to burn tomorrow morning can wait its turn.So charge your glasses and raise a toast to the memory gained, to the sleep that we lost.Another weekend run to ground,another passing coat of red painted across our town.Work is shallow, cuts are deep, but who would waste two days respite? You can’t catch up on sleep.So here we are, last chance saloon, the ticking clock and a slow defeat, it’ll all be over soon. Once more friends unto the breach, bleary-eyed, the stuff of dreams always slips out of reach.Defiance dressed in crumpled clothes, protest played out with a headache, starting late and going slow. So though we know we have to be here, we have tasted freer air, so we don’t have to care. All our days will fade away in hazy nights and clear mistakes. So here’s to us and needs that must. Let’s raise a toast for one last boast because it’s Sunday night and we’ve time to burn.Tomorrow morning can wait its turn..
-Frank Turner-
It never lasts and we never learn we can still make this one to remember.It’s Sunday night and we’ve time to burn tomorrow morning can wait its turn.So charge your glasses and raise a toast to the memory gained, to the sleep that we lost.Another weekend run to ground,another passing coat of red painted across our town.Work is shallow, cuts are deep, but who would waste two days respite? You can’t catch up on sleep.So here we are, last chance saloon, the ticking clock and a slow defeat, it’ll all be over soon. Once more friends unto the breach, bleary-eyed, the stuff of dreams always slips out of reach.Defiance dressed in crumpled clothes, protest played out with a headache, starting late and going slow. So though we know we have to be here, we have tasted freer air, so we don’t have to care. All our days will fade away in hazy nights and clear mistakes. So here’s to us and needs that must. Let’s raise a toast for one last boast because it’s Sunday night and we’ve time to burn.Tomorrow morning can wait its turn..
-Frank Turner-
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