it’s an emo cath week, this week. this week marks three years of missing someone, see?
(note – being emo does not mean im not happy. i just feel affected more by things, and like to hide out a bit and be glummo. its allowed, and normal, you know)
peppered with outbursts and crying and missing people.
specifically, though, this week means change. it always means change.
and so the changes have presented themselves.
emo week, phase 1, means realising change is coming and loathing it.
emo week, phase 2, means getting up and doing something about it.
emo week, phase 3, means hoping like hell a plan works out.
emo week, phase 4, is having the phone put down on me (yeah, that rocked. not).
emo week, phase 5, is when I write something and publish it and hope like hell i did you justice.
but for now, we’re in phase 3. and i am still wordless and wondering. but, im okay. promise.
So, i’ll leave it to Dylan Thomas because, if i think of you, I think of mom and you and Under Milk Wood on LP.
Do not go gentle into that good night – Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.