sometimes i wonder if life is really worth it at all. i mean, you get up, go to school (or work) go home, do nothing. life seems pretty bland, colourless. and who wants to live life in black and white?
life is so mundane, so spectacularly boring. i spend all month waiting for the few glowing hours when i can meet up with my friends, but after that, everything seems greyer than before.
its why i write, why i dream, why i listen to music.
its all i can hope will make the day pass that little bit faster, give it little bits of colour.
sometimes, you see a photo, or hear a song that suddenly flips the world inside out, and puts it into negative relief, blows your mind. it changes you.
then life returns to its sluggish pace, and its all can do to cling onto the edge of reality. and colour becomes grey again.
sometimes i wish i could put moments in a bottle, and store them on a shelf to act as lights through the black and white. i wish that it was the other way - life was colour and they grey bits you crawled through made the colour brighter, but its not, and the grey that you barely survive through only makes the colour blinding, and painful, and then, when the colour dies, makes the grey hurt all the more.
sometimes, i just wish the grey would stop hurting.
maybe we can make our own colour - maybe thats the only way to live anything thats more than any sort of a pathetic halflife.
to make sure that there's some part of you worth saving, worth living.
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