The Beauty in Miss

I have found thiere is so much beaty in miss. Do you know what I mean? The simple fact that you're lucky enough to have something, or rather someone, to long for is pure gold. True miss comes in more colors than the rainbow, true miss is both an umbrella AND the rain.

We're all shattered for the wind, aren't we. & then you're finding yourself crossing half a world trying to ease the miss, knowing it will only mean you exchange it for another.

She is love.

Fantastic four.

Soon, soon, soon.

Punk.

Mamma.

Shit person <3.

Aw aw aw. 86 days is too long.

Baby brother.

See, I did take a picture. One! & it's great.

Ahah. It would explain alot.

The world is never bigger than when you're loved ones are far away.

But I am finding so much peace in writing songs these days. It's as if my body has been sick & tired & unsatisfied with sticking to words on paper for so long. Writing can be such a silent curse sometimes, & now it's just greatful & happy to finally get to fill the air with vibrations. It's one thing to know what you're thinking - another to say it out loud. As soon as thought makes sound it takes place, not like text - in two dimensions, but in three, as a living thing, & it can not be ignored. Don't get me wrong, I love writing. But for the moment I have a need for melodies. & singing is simply the best thing I know.

Or, wait, scratch that. I think this is the best thing I know:

Followed cloesly by men with guitars, random nights & big leather bags.

Oh, & this is just plainly painfully fantastic humour:

Back to work. Love ya'll, wherever you might be. This is me saying I will miss you, this is me understanding I already am, & this is me finding strenght to be greatful for it.

D