I once dreamed about people with a volume button on their heads. One you could just turn up or down as you wanted to, letting out all the thoughts running through the mind. If I wanted to, I could turn up the volume of any head just to avoid the effort of asking, or waiting for that person to express... But that was just a freaky dream, nothing more.
Reality turns out a lot differently, perhaps better than having the sound of millions of thoughts wherever we'd go. The truth is that we own them and are the only ones that can decide when to let them out in words or other ways of expression. There's no one that can make us bring that to the real scenario (in the most democratic idea), and sometimes that fact can be both hypocrite and frustrating.
Knowing me, there's no need to explain why of the frustrating part, but the hypocrite goes around how some say they speak their mind all the time, or that they say exactly what they think... Honestly, why say so if it isn't true?
Maybe is a phrase that can easily excuse our stupidity or the lack of courage we might fall into after saying something we'd regret later... Maybe is a phrase we wish we could believe in, but doesn't really happen that way; there is always something in our heads that we won't share, won't say or express. The avoiding of certain awkward situations or the not believing in our weakness could be the principal reasons, but that's just how it is.
Then why not just assume it? Like this: "I don't say everything I think even if you're standing in front of me and my thoughts are screaming to you inside my head, I don't let them out... And I hope I could adjust to the idea that you are going through the same as me, leaving us both in mute"
... see? that wasn't so bad after all...
Lyrics by The Morning Benders
here I am again
trying to relearn how to breathe
and how easy it sinks
and slips away from me
what has become
of those simple loves
that came to me once, so naturally
sitting in my box
I am reading alive
disconnecting dots
that I twisted in my eyes
what has become
of those simple loves
that came to me once, so naturally
trying to relearn how to breathe
and how easy it sinks
and slips away from me
what has become
of those simple loves
that came to me once, so naturally
sitting in my box
I am reading alive
disconnecting dots
that I twisted in my eyes
what has become
of those simple loves
that came to me once, so naturally
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