A Daily Dose Of Wisdom

 

tonquin-beach
Tofino across on Vancouver Island – the credit for this image goes to Gavin Dumbar

 

———————————————————————

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.

I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.
Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me.
When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic.
No rhetoric, no tremolos,
no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.
And of course, no theology, no metaphysics.
Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.

So throw away your baggage and go forward.
There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling,
on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag,
completely unencumbered.

― Aldous Huxley, Island

 

 

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The Soul Song

dance

 

Dancing through the silence of a day

I’ll dance the pain away

Dancing

Until the morning shimmering sun

Arrays a new day.

 
 

Dancing to the serene numbness

Until I don’t sense myself anymore

Dancing ’till I’m gone

And forget what I’m dancing for.

 
 

Dancing to the indistinct music

Of my splintered soul

Because

No other instrument

Could play so devotedly

 
 

The chorus of my soul song.

 
 
 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/strike-a-chord/

pad2014

Dead End

 

end

Triggered and thrown into the abyss.

With stupid words. With stupid acts. With stupid people that surround me.

 

I should have left my cell phone in the sink and pour the water in. To drown it.

 

I lit up a cigarette.

 

Smoke vanishes in the air. Just like me. Vanishing.

 

What do I feel?

 

Common question. Without an exact answer. All of it. Everything. Oh my, you stupid BPD.

Anger, grief, sorrow. If I could cry (which I just cannot for a long time now), I think I would flood the city.

 

 

Instead, I’m sitting empty, alone, looking at the wall.

Smoke in the air.

Coffee.

Me. Wanting only one thing.

 

 

This story should finally reach the end.

 

Perplexed plot, insane characters, twisted turns, unbelievable chapters full of despair.

 

Smoke in the air.

I took all of my meds, as prescribed. With a touch of more Klonopin to numb me even more. It’s not working, as usual.

 

If I make it through the night, if I finally get asleep (which I also cannot), I promise myself to see my psych tomorrow.

 

I feel another couple of days or weeks coming, in the, oh so well-known,  surrounding with white walls and full-time insanity.

 

If I make it.

Smoke. Vanishing.

 

 

“..Laecheln…… sanfte Rueckkehr….
….Traenenlos versinkend……
…..Schau zurueck friedvoll…
….Wenn die Daemmerung erwacht…

……Vieles bleibt vergessen…..
……Verschwommen und zerschellt…..
……An den leichten Momenten…….
……Dem Wellenschlage gleich…….ueberm Meer…”

 

 

Lost By My Own Will

Floating

 

I couldn’t resist, it was the full moon, warm summer evening. I sat in the car and drove.
Just drove true the night.

 

Just drove, to get lost.

 

Music loud, windows down, feeling of freedom and that special scent of summer night.
Mixture of fresh grass, asphalt, ozone after rain, and gasoline.

 

Me and my car, one entity, driving and exploring, leaving the world behind.
Thoughts, emotions, blended into one bubble that would never burst.

I stopped by some unknown woods, and there was that meadow, barely seen through the dark.

 

I knew I’m lost, somewhere, but it was really what I needed.

 

I left the car, and sat down on the grass, slightly wet from the afternoon rain, just catching the moment,and wishing it would never end. Moon above me, stars, no cloud in the dark skies above me, not even one.

 

And then, there it came. Two falling meteors, one following the other.

I laughed, echoing in the surrounding silence, and thought about making a wish, but why?
I had everything I needed in that perfect frozen time moment.

 

Only one thing remained empty. The place beside me.
The person with I could share the moment stolen from time.
No regrets, though.
If it should be empty, then be it.

 

I leaved all of it, driving back to the familiar roads.
But my mind stayed there, like in the movie that would stay forever imprinted, with no subtitles, no ending, and with no beginning.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/wrong-turns/

pad2014

You Were My Favourite Flavour

 

BW

 

You had me instantly

At the sweetness of your lips.

You were the spice of my tasteless life

Salty sweat and tears

Through the endless nights.

Bitterness that you brought

After the sweetness had subsided

Hadn’t surprised me

Because

The sour taste of disappointment

Was always the main chorus

Of my life.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/picky-tongues/

 

 

 

 

The Serenity Of Remorse

girl

I will set free two, maybe three words,

To slide down my cheeks.

 

I do not want to steal the future time anymore,

I will rather leave,

And keep the honor guard

For the dead thoughts.

 

One day I will escape utterly,

And leave an empty void for the last wish.

The autumn sky will be hidden by the gap of emptiness,

And death.

 

Then, with the move of an experienced gambler,

I will pull the rope around the neck,

Of nonexistent, faint body.

 

I will let two or three words,

To flow with the content down my cheeks.

 

Thus, comforted, I will go to meet Him,

To appraise the remorse of the revealed pledge,

Sliding slowly down my face.

My Own Hidden Cloud

cloud

One day, in the afternoon sky, one cloud reminds and not travelled round.

He stuck with me, it was obvious, and no matter the questions I asked, he stayed silent.

My new guidance, he became my new advisor, in the sky. Saving my dreams, imagination and hopes.

Fears? Oh, fears, he had blown them away, they vanished in his surrounding purple air.

I wanted to thank him for being around, but I did not say nothing, because I scarcely knew, no answer will come from above.

So be it, my purple friend.

Have my dreams stay imprinted in you, veiled from the Earth.

And what are the best spot to hide, then way up high, far in the sky?

Not reachable by anything, the Earth, the Moon or the tide.

The Road To Yourself

road

 

Not mine photo. Too bad, because it is perfect.
It represents everything in my mind, colourless, empty, leading…somewhere.

I dream of driving full speed on a road like that, feeling free of everything that surrounds me at this very moment.
I don’t need companion, never had or needed one in fact.
I used to be alone, learned to speak with myself and make my own decisions.
Only thing that’s missing is a someone with who I can share a beautiful, hot mug of freshly made coffee in the moment of a sunrise in the end of the road
In silence.
No words needed.
Free open space. coffee taste, sun on the horizon appearing in a slight, yet visible form, touching my face.
Reminding me that, I am, in fact still alive.
Because, when travelling the black road, alone, you lose a sense of yourself.
As if nothing exists but blackness and speed.

Find yourself. Travel the black road. Bring a companion if you wish. Or lose yourself in the perfection of the moment.

Wherever you are going, you’re always find your way back home.

And to yourself.

Perfect Lovers

sea

 

I never separate The Sun from The Sea. They are One, loving each other in the morning, embracing sunrise with the depth of emotions, sea breeze and soft waves.

If there wasn’t the Sun, the Sea would never have it’s most magnificent look, at the sunset, going from light turquoise blue, to dark blue and deep black, with orange reflections appearing from the horizon.

As the day goes on, The Sun keeping up high in the Sky, waves getting bigger, wind aiming for the clouds.

I lay down in the shade and watch this game.

Interacting, playing with each other, just like two lovers wanting to touch each other, softly whispering through Sun shining and Sea waves crushing on the shore.

All day long they play.

All day long I watch and listen. There are never harsh words, misspellings.

How seductive, I thought. How incredible, I dreamt.

And when the Moon appears, the Sea sleeps, deep, black, quiet dreams of love.

Could this kind of love happen’ to me? Once? Do I dare even think of it?

I know I do.

You broke it, stupid!

Heart

 

Not expected so much rain today. Maybe it will become a flood. It makes me sleepy, moody, down.

Everything a woman is expected to be. But I’m not that kind of woman, so I’m surprised with my own reactions.

I’ll grab some chocolate. Lay down. Listen to music. Think about opportunities and mistakes I have made.

I know, I know, bad choice of thoughts, but it’s my mind discussion which has to be done, sooner or later.

In the name of that, another undiagnosed “poem” ( oh, how I like that term).

Don’t call me

Don’t text me

Don’t even think of me.

You have no rights, no purpose in my life and my mind.

I erased you like a bad drawing from the plain paper, put you into garbage and kicked away with pleasure..

Please, you should do the same.

Our last conversation, silent, with no words at all.

Could I even call it conversation?

I had nothing to say, after you said everything, in four little, tiny words.

I

don’t

love

you.

Enough said. Welcome to the exit door of my life. Please, shut it down.

I won’t look back anymore.

At the bottom. Not swimming, but drowning in the misery of the BPD.

I haven’t been posting, for a while.

Why?

I broke, fell apart, sinked to the bottom.

I don’t remember exactly what was I doing for the two past days. It’s a fog of memories.

Mostly I slept not to feel. Not to do anything….to myself.

I thought of ending it once and for all, I couldn’t bear it anymore.

So I took a pill after pill after pill, until I was totally numb and fell asleep.

Did it helped? No. I was looking for a help, my psych is on vacation, I called The Crisis Center,but it didn’t help too much.

They said, that I have to go to my psych hospital (second home,as I call it), but I did not. I don’t want to end there, again. It is three weeks since I left the psych ward, I cannot imagine myself being there locked up, again.

I was, I am still in fact, a wreck.

Going from feeling useless, failure, to self harm thoughts, to suicidal thoughts.

From crying to feeling nothing at all. Empty and numb.

I tried to talk to my family, but they did more harm than good. Our talk ended up in the verbal fight, as my mother, again, tried to be persuasive with her constant and annoying repeating words of how I am overreacting, and do I know how does it make her feel.

Yeah mum, I know. I have been your burden too long. But you have never ever said a word that could make me feel better.

My mum has an amazing power of turning my cries for help into her own misery.  If I feel bad, she makes it even worse, by making me feel guilty and responsible for all the problems in the world. Thanks, mum.

At this moment, I have no clue what to do next. Or better said,what will I do…next.

I’m sorry, but this battle is becoming to hard to fight it.

I feel I have no strength or reasons to fight.

The end.

 

The Worst Hours In My Broken Life

images

Strange unknown house. My not-so-good friend party, birthday or whatsoever. Didn’t bother me too much, the occasion I mean. I was there, that was all that counted.

Boring to the bone.
Waiting to leave, unnoticed, without asking and answering stupid questions.

I was lost in the crowd with unfamiliar people, drinking my mojito, third, fourth, who counts anyway, looking for the door.
Tried to push myself to the limit of toleration of surrounding noise. The moment I felt my thoughts messed up, my head about to explode, I was seeking the way out.
No goodbye to anyone, just wanted to disappear without the trace.

I walked through the crowd, head down. No one noticed me, I was invisible, the state which is able to achieve if you know how. Blended into surrounding mess, words, polite chats. Awful.

As I entered the hallway, darkness surrounded me. I remembered where the entrance and the front door were. But there was complete blackness around. No lights at all. I was completely blind. Put my hand into the purse looking for my cell phone..but nothing.

Fuck, I thought.Fuck, fuck. Where is the fucking light? The switch?! Anything!?.

My purse filled up with thousand unnecessary things.
Like all the woman’s bags, you could survive the World War III with the content of the bag. Felt the lipstick under my fingers, car keys, wallet, everything and nothing useful.

I broke with anger, yelling at myself, thinking about entering that gray party zone again..I was so desperate.

And then.. that sound behind me.

Like a soft whisper. Like a tip toe walking towards me from behind.

“Hello?”, I asked.

No answer.

Sound again, this time, breathing, slow, deep breaths, almost touching my neck.

I could feel chills down the spine. My hands started to shake. I wasn’t scared, I was horrified.

There was someone. Breathing behind me. I could feel his presence, the warmth that was getting closer and closer.

“What do you want? Who is it!?”. No answer. Silence, thick and heavy, you could smell it, the fear, the horror, you could slice it with a knife.

And then..there it was.

Hand on my mouth. Hand around my waist, felling pulled away.

Wanted to yell, I couldn’t, wanted to bite, I couldn’t, wanted to fight, I couldn’t. He was too strong.

Heard the door squeak as they opened. He turned me around like a doll, pushed me somewhere.
There were dimming lights penetrating the window blinds.
It was a room. Messy place. Smell of wine, cigarettes..
He pushed me again, hard, hurting my hand. I screamed this time, but who was able to hear me?!

I landed on the bed, trying to stand up, to get away, to run..I felt nothing but my heart beating way through the chest.

His arms took my wrists, hard. ” You’re hurting me! Let go of me! You motherfucker!” Words flowed out of me with no respond.

I couldn’t breathe as he simply lie down on me. He, heavy as a rock, lied, and hurting me, I tried to move, with every muscle, with every drop of my remaining energy, freaking out.
I just couldn’t. Not an inch.

“I was waiting for this, for so long….”, whispered in my ear, distant, cold, unknown voice.

I started crying. This wasn’t happening Not to me. Not to me. Not to me!! It was just a dream I repeated to myself, just a nightmare, I should wake up any second now. Any second, I thought…

But i didn’t.

I felt him. Completely. Tearing my clothes away, mumbling something in a distance..

His face, barely visible, not recognizable, and mine, filled with terror, met inches away. I could feel his breath on my face.

“You want it. You wanted it. I know”, he said.

“No!!!” Screaming didn’t sound like my voice, more like a sound of the hurt animal brought to slaughter.

I felt hopeless. Felt tied down. Defeated. Wanted to give up.
My mind wandered somewhere, far, far away.
I thought if it must be, please God, let it be quick.
Tears rolling down my face, I was trembling with frailty. So vulnerable, so fragile.
So not me.

Then…

All around came the light, hurting my eyes. Someone came into the room.

“What the fuck!”. Remote voice, through the fog of misery.

He jumped. Literally jumped out of the bed.

I lay down for a while, unable to move. Felt someones hands helping me to get up. To get dressed. Wiping my tears.

As police came, and ambulance, I don’t remember a thing. I spoke something, do not remember what, shaking.

Driving to the hospital, the lights of the ambulance car and sirens.. distant. Felt as nothing of this was happening to me. Felt aloof and empty. Just an empty shell. Every inch of my body hurt. Body? That was not my body anymore.

Three days later, 18 stitches later, numberless consultations and answering..I went home.

He was brought to prison, that much I know. And got out for a minimum number of months. Physical assault, good beahviour.

Unlike his, my prison and burden never left me. I buried it deep inside, where no one can see it. It digs up his way out sometimes, but I beat it.

And now, this is me. Beating it up now, in this time, but not when I should do it. Because I couldn’t think then.

I was old me again..after a countless months.

An that is what I call my triumph, to overcome myself.

Parents, who the hell invented them in the first place?!

 

Short and sweet this will be.

Like would master Yoda say, you own path go must. Ignore the stupid as better you can do.

That’s a comment to a conversation my mother and I had today.

Like two monkeys, not understanding what the other one said.

 

I could also speak Chinese, it would make no difference to her. She has a tremendous way of understanding me.  She just doesn’t,  but she thinks she does, so it turns in a one big argument conversation without the conclusion or ending.

I feel drenched and angry. Facepalm for her winning again,and leaving me feel like a crap.

 

51512052

 

 

Rebel

Camus-Rebel

 

“I choose my own destiny!”

That’s such a common phrase, that gets me laughing every time I hear it.

What the f…. k can you choose? You are buried down with your own thoughts, worries, everyday obligations that just need to be done! That’s it! Nothing more, nothing less!

There is no excuse for your obligations, in your so-called ” life”. There are no choices!

No excuses for not going to work even if you feel and think that you’d rather stay home.

You must stay “responsible” and execute your obligations as they come.

Every morning when I woke up, and barely pull out myself out of the bed, I sincerely ask myself, where the hell I lost my last ten years? A whole decade?!

Flushed down the toilet, wasted and thrown away. Wasted on others and for the others.

I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror.

Hopeless face that has come to the final conclusion.

You don’t choose anything!

Everything else chooses you. And there’s nothing, absolutely nothing you can do about it.

Of course, you can decide for yourself if you’re gonna wear that pair of shoes today or not… but that’s so irrelevant.

The big life choices and decisions, oh, you thought you made it yourself?!

Do not be stupid! You were probably influenced by people surrounding you, your community and way of life that is „prescribed“ to you.

We are just a mass of entities, like an ant farm, running around, unable to see the bigger picture.

The more you run, the more you bury yourself into the every day’s happenings, the more you become detached from life and from yourself.

I am detached. It’s kinda floating feeling. Acting as a robot, just doing stuff that need to be done.

And the real Me? Cuddled somewhere deep inside waiting… not knowing what am I waiting for.

But I do know one thing.

There is no f…g way to get out of the line that just keeps leading you further and further. No stopping, just moving forward. Walking straight, you with the rest of the herd.

If you think that you are not the same kind and you’re somehow different, you are so deeply wrong.

The truth, the meaning of the life is not available to us, common people. We are just wanderers keeping what we need to keep, doing what we must do, and NOT what we want to do.

You can call yourself a Rebel, someone who will just push and overcome all of the boundaries and rules of the society, to live a life-like you really want to.

Wanna be a rebel ?! Come on, play the role!  You will not last for a day. This game of life has rules! First of all, obedience! If you fight against it, you want last for a day.

I thought that this mind retrospective would be a positive one. But, I do realize now that it is not either positive or negative.

It is just REAL.

Albert Camus said :”The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion“.

I tried and I failed.

But, at least – I tried!

Did you try, ever?!

An open letter from a BPD to a non-BPD

In this video, originated from an open letter of a BPD sufferer who healed through DBT, the BPD is presented in a way that everyone could understand what is BPD really like.

Also, this is a great contribution to take away a BPD stigma from the society.

Please, watch it.

🙂

 

 

 

Black wings of love

cigarette

 

I do not know if I can touch you

The way I want,

The way I feel.

 

I do not know if I could look into your eyes

Sincerely,

Because I am afraid

That you be able to see all the secrets of my soul.

My wings are a little black, and

You’ll probably run away, I know.

 

I do not know if I can wake up next to you

And wish for another day,

Another night,

Another smile.

 

I do not know if I am going the right way

And if I make a mistake now,

Trip over my own words and deeds

I will fall

And never get up again.

 

I do not know why you’re here and who brought you,

What was the idea,

What was the thought of bringing you to me.

 

I do not know whether to thank him

Or prepare another box

For storing the memories away.

The Boy

 

Snow

 

One winter morning, a boy woke up.

He was not any particular boy, or the morning was in any way special.

He knew it was Christmas, but he had long ceased to believe in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, and everything else that makes a kid feel like a kid.

Under the Christmas tree stood a gift. He knew what he got. He felt no happiness or joy. He didn’t care. At all.

 

Mom was still asleep. It was early in the morning.

The boy took his favorite books about dragons, made himself some warm milk, and read.

 

Outside, it was snowing.

He wondered if maybe later he’ll go out, but even for that he had no will.

He read and enjoyed his imaginary world.

Where there is no contention, grief, loss, illness and tears.

 

For his age, he had seen too much.

He decided to open a gift when mom woke up.

He will fake joy and play with her.

He knew she was looking forward to it. Knew she loved him so much to the point of the physical pain.

When he was telling her that he loves her, then the tears came. She cried for because of so much love she had.

 

But the boy was in pain because she was always sad. Even while she was laughing with him, while they watched movies, drawing, he could feel some void inside her.

He knew why. He was just a child, but not in his mind. He knew.

 

When she wakes up, he’ll make coffee. That would cheer her up.

 

His friend Fred called to meet with him this afternoon. To play outside, in the snow.

He refused. He did not like to leave the mother alone. He loved to be with her, every possible moment he had.

Maybe mum did not know how he sees everything. How he feels everything.

Despite being just a child, he learned to suppress emotions. Just like mother did.

Their grief turned into something invisible but always present and touchable, like a soap balloon ready to burst.

 

He replaced this surrounding grief world, with his own, in whom dragons ruled, moms didn’t cry, didn’t have to take medications, and moms never had to leave home. Sometimes she was gone for days, weeks.

It didn’t make a difference if he knew where mum left. When she returned, she was different and changed, less sad, but always brought that bubble again with her. Invisible, yet touchable.

 

He did not want to change anything. He knew that everything would be fine. He just to be there, for her, for him.

To be good. To laugh. Tell her that he loves her. Every day.

It didn’t matter, he had only eight years, and he understood very well that life is not easy.

Does not always bring what you want. That ugly thing occurs.

 

Once, a long time ago, he had a father. Now he had an only mother, occasionally in rare moments.

There were times when he asked her something, but she didn’t reply, she just stared at the wall, empty and silent. Sometimes for hours.

He got accustomed to it.

He got accustomed to such a way of life. Mother was all he had, anyway.

 

He decided to go out with Fred.

Mom will be fine.

 

Yet, today is Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, Santa heard and fulfilled him one wish that he never, ever told anyone. He did not want to admit this wish even to himself.

But it was the wish from the deepest place in his small child heart.

All he wanted was Christmas morning full of laughter, favorite vanilla cookies mum used to bake. And a family.

 

He knew that it was probably too much to ask. So he returned to his book, to that what was real for him.

Red Fire Dragon. War in the story land, dragons and elves…

And outside, it was snowing. And it was Christmas. And the mom was still asleep.

 

 

Who’s gonna save my soul now?

Track 1
Nordschleife – Nürburgring, Germany

 

1. I have never been in NYC, and I always wanted to

2. I have never made it to the Nurburgring and Nordschleife and drove a real sports car

3. I have never been on F1 race

4. I have never been on an exotic island with white sand beaches and perfect blue see

5. I have never been truly loved for who I am

6. I have never been proposed to marriage

7. I have never had one more child like I wanted to

8. I haven’t left my country and took a job in Ireland, although I was supposed to

9. I haven’t taken all the opportunities that I could

10. I didn’t have a life-like I wanted it

 

PhD On Terms Loneliness And Plural

girl

 

Solitude is a synonym for a loneliness: noun aloneness.

So, there we have a three nouns, with the same meaning.

For me, they do not “feel”the same, at all.

Yesterday evening I was so mad at you, stuffing your travel bags once again, as I did numberless times before. I felt grief, because your job is so demanding and you are on a trip almost constantly.

I felt grief because your socks have traveled more than I am, they have seen the whole world. The whole world, indeed.

And here I am, putting those socks again into your bag, the bag will go into the airplane, and you will go into the airplane as well, leaving me as always.

That’s solitude. When you are already missing someone who is right next to you, but in his mind, the airplane has lifted off.

This morning, at the airport, we kissed goodbye.

Instantly, as you were gone, the loneliness has come.

That’s loneliness, when you return home and find a pair of forgotten socks. Me and your socks, waiting for you to return.

The days passing by, loneliness turns int a monster.

The monster called aloneness. It eats you, it haunts you wherever you are, no matter what are you doing.

Aloneness is the final stage. The verge of the pot full with emotions, ready to blast off.

I could ask for a PhD on these three nouns.

I mastered them to a perfection.

We have been talking about us, about your airplanes taking off’s, international arrivals and the awful airport coffee.

I had it enough, I don’t want to feel the third monster noun again. The pot has exploded, and I cannot do it anymore.

When you return to our home, where we have lived for the past few years, I will give you your forgotten socks.

I will kiss you because I love you and then I will leave you for good.

Because loving someone so much and missing him constantly, mastering the all synonyms for the solitude, is ruining my life.

I want you in it, in my life, in my presence. I want you, and not the forgotten pair of socks.

If you will ever be able to understand the solitude, the loneliness, the monster of aloneness, then you will find me.

If you do that, I’ll get rid of my PhD, and finally make a plural in our lives.

Instead of “you” and “I” apart, we could make the word “we” or “us”. A new word in my dictionary.

That would be an awesome PhD, about the new term  – “we”, as a plural.

But it’s up to you to decide. The socks, or me. The plural or the singular, it’s totally up to you.

 

Do not clap along!

 

Darkness and Light

No sunshine for he’s not here

And I’m not crazy what I’m about to say

I’m a tempered bomb ready to explode

Right into the space, bringing it all with me

**************

I’m unhappy and feel free to clap along

If you know that feeling

When the room ceiling is falling down on you.

Clap along if you understand the meaning

Of the loneliness, the only truth

Clap along, I know you feel it too.

*********************************

Nothing you can say can change my feelings

You’re just wasting your time.

No offense to you

Give me all the arguments you have

But no, I won’t be fine.

*********************************

Hey, come on

As you don’t know it by now

Nothing can lift me up.

I’m gone way to deep

Into this state of mind.

*******************************

Come on

Don’t waste your time

Clap along while I’m going into the dark

Where I belong.

Clap along

But don’t follow me down.

I’m already lost

But you can make it

If you just stop

Clapping along.

(Pharrell Williams- “Happy”, rewritten, as an answer to a challenge of  DP- “To The Tune Of….”)
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