you always smile, but in your eyes your sorrow shows...

yes it shows.

sometimes...

if only...

and i'll never make it like you do...

i could make tonight forever,

i could make it disappear by the door,

i could make you every promise that has ever been made,

and i could make your demons begone.

but i'm never gonna make it without you, do you really want to see me crawl?

and i don't know how to make it like you do, 

making love out of nothing at all.

---Air Supply---

i'm special, you're special, everyone's special. no one is special.

think about it.

if everyone was special, what would be so special about being special?

wouldn't everyone who's special be just as special as the person next to him, hence rendering them no longer special?


special would be a paradox; a delusion that doesn't exist simply because everyone is special which renders the peculiar fact that you are special moot.


hence, the conclusion would be that no one is special.


forgive me for leaving you confused, and wasting your time. 

"For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the words that he truly feels,
and not the words of one who kneels."
--- Frank Sinatra, My Way


may I, too, find a way, and do it my way.

Truth of the matter.

via silent-musings.