on a string, on a string.

i was thinking, recently, about all of the loose ends i surround myself with, how i never truly knot anything off and singe the ends (so it doesn't come undone). i'm talking about people, about friends, and more than. i keep it around, and i pull the strings, when the mood strikes. sometimes, it all starts to unravel, to digress, or "pulling strings" has another implication, a slightly better one, resulting in some sort of special treatment. i wonder what i'm afraid of, why i can't let it die, can't let it go. i want to take my strings, and tie them to a balloon, and let them go, into spring's warm sky. (and of course, the thought suddendly jumped into my head about how these balloons will pop, and land on some foreign shore and a seagull will find it, eat it, choke and die.) i can't free myself of all this, and for the most part, my strings make me feel safe, that when i feel alone, or need something, i can just find some strings to untangle, and see what's on the other end of it, like a cat, find something to keep me entertained. (or maybe, i'm just giving myself enough rope to hang myself to hang myself with).



back blipped the last 2 days, plz take a look! :)