Henry Mancini. Surprisingly enough I find comfort in the melodies of the olden days. Not that I was a part of them, but does that really matter? I find comfort, sophistication (though I'm sure it doesn't make me so); I find peace & lately that's hard enough to find on it's own.
I accept things that I know I can't do. I allow myself to fill my plate further. The things that matter, like this paper that was due yesterday, get pushed aside. Deciding what's important is tough these days. It's all important in some way, I just don't know how. When it comes down to it, I don't know how to separate it all.
Henry Mancini is over. That was yesterday. I wanted to be her, I wanted to embody it all from the neck down but the motivation is gone. Out the window. My emotional turmoil isn't as good as it was last time. 27 minutes. I was on my way somewhere. Now I'm back at square one. Fuck. Oh, I was gonna try & stop tat now wasn't I?
The songs change & my mood doesn't. I feel stuck in between. Who gets turned down for telemarketing? The rest I can deal with, but that... fuck.
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