they say nobody's normal, or it simply doesn't exist.
but if you're surrounded by true insanity for most of your life,
you know that normal has to be out there.
in fact, you search for it for a long time.
in a lot of different places.
and as a kid, as a teenager, you crave it.

but idealism fades, you settle into reality.
you wonder what you'd even do with normal if you had it.
because you've lived so long with so little right.
all you are left with is that will to keep searching.
in a lot of different places.
and as a young adult, as an adult, you'll crave it.

it gets hard to put down roots. you open doors, you close them.
california, new york, florence, madrid, montreal, toronto.
they are all the same place.
places you go to never feel lost.
each is a trophy, each is a prize.
to know you can be anywhere in the world,
and still survive.

you know some days i really just miss landline phones.
or trying to find bookstores that aren't gonna close.

it's getting harder to get away from bad people and times.
when all they do is click a button back into your life.

i'm not trying to date myself here but i might as well.
cause it's getting harder to talk to men through a wall of screens.

We're not even the same person. Some days I see her in daydreams and wish I could go back and tell her all that she's about to go through. All that will happen to her, who she will meet, how she can prevent herself from being who I was.  I believe that I would stop time just for her. Let her be a little kid forever.

9, 13, 16, 19, 21, 24.

"I wish that you hadn't become all that I despise, it would make it easier to swallow your lies. And if the times get too tough to touch I just break all ties. Find me outside of the world you've made of glass and paper and save yourself the headache, cause god knows I miss the days when I didn't have to watch as you'd fly out in a flash of fury only to lay down and quake."

i found this in my old livejournal. i love it.

I used to love to walk
past factory buildings, broken glass,
my neighbor's doormat.
Now I can't even go outside.

There were dark bars, small alleys,
your face as it burnt through cigarettes.
so the turnstiles are built for hopping
and our hair is grown and meant for chopping.
Now I can't even go outside.