Lack of Limits.

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They say that there’s beauty in a storm. This isn’t quite a storm, but I feel as though I can relate to some of the objects that I take pictures of.

Over the past few months, I’ve learnt to appreciate nature more, especially the sky. The way that the clouds change shape and the colours that fill the air, they change as often as the thoughts in my head.

They also say that the sky is limitless, and as much as I always knew that, sometimes I was blind to anything that lacked a limit because I had made it possible to make most things limited for so long that I just simply thought inside of a box.

When I shoot pictures, I look through the lense and see what I was seeing prior to holding the camera up to my eye, but because the lense cuts out half of the scenery sometimes, that makes me feel in control. It gives me the power to decide what other people may see once the photo is taken. Do I want to take pictures of that bird over there flying over my house? That tree is propped against the rocks near the river, do I want to take a picture of it’s shadow because it looks like it’s a person sitting on something? The decision is mine.

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Coursing Palpitations

I’ve attempted to, even when I haven’t, to guilt trip you and                                                                                                   make you feel like you did me wrong, when really I let you go so soon                                                                                     and maybe I was just way too weak to stay, too weak to admit that I want you, mostly you

Although you’ve made it clear that the we that had transitioned                                                                                               to us has become no longer, I’m still trying to figure out if it was more than                                                                             just our seperate troubles, other factors besides the distance eating us

I sometimes wake up in a panic, struck over the heart, body hit                                                                                               with the storm that I had created for the both of us and                                                                                                             all I can seem to be able to do is wade it out with every few                                                                                                     fiber that is left circulating, coursing through my very body

Hurting, is what this may be, regret, guilt, not quite inlove-love, but                                                                                     love is still being felt up even after letting myself let you down and                                                                                           I can feel us slowly disappearing out of eachother’s lives and it’s killing me

I prefer winter’s cold shoulders.

I want to believe that the summer is more comforting than the winter, but I’m not quite sure that it is.

The winter calms me as it freezes the water droplets on tree branches.

The winter relaxes me everytime I see the sky shedding little pieces of frozen art.

The winter speaks to me in volumes, when the summer just keeps denying me of my air.

The winter bares my demons lighter than the summer claims to show.

But here I am trying to list the things that summer benefits me besides it’s positive vibes.

It’s rays of sunshine lifts me up, but maybe I’d rather the winter allow me to cilmb admist it’s cold shoulders.

It’s light tear falls dulls even the sharpest parts of me, but maybe I’d rather the winter stab me in the back with it’s icicles of truth.

It’s way of heating me feels nice, but I’d rather the winter show me all it has in store for me as it’s angry storms rip apart the seams of my very being.