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The better part of me

I was a blessing; "A second chance", in the eyes of my grandpa. I was the child he had the opportunity of raising from when I was 3 months old. I am his baby, his princess, the mini queen de marine. You know what else? He used to call me "Jøårgi". I forgot my real name! My mom got angry with him about this, and asked him to stop calling me, "Jøårgi". I remember how confused I was for a short period, vividly: Standing on stage at Mission Hills Baptist Church at age 2, facing what was the largest audience, of all children, I had ever seen up to that point. I took a chillingly long, pause in response to the inquisition of my name. Silence....... SILENCE....
"...Uhm Jøårjuh-Umm-I mean, Sarah? It's Sarah.". Because this time in my life aligned with another heavily determining factor of my current composite; I am often curious of whether, "Jøårgi ∞ Håuge", refers to the better part of 'me': The little girl who never doubted her rank as 'princess'; Who was cognizant of the utter magnitude to which she is loved; Who is outgoing, and is  aware of how adorable she is; Doesn't see a reason at all why someone wouldn't absolutely love her;  She can't seem to grasp the concept of 'strangers'. With whom else is one meant to be introduced ?!?....

House Of Fools - Better Part Of Me

Diving like a bird,

I pick the blue out of your eyes.

Hijack a plane to France.

If we could watch the moon,

Dance across the street into a bar,

I would never leave,

But I know I'll have to go sometime.

Your hold on me is stronger than the alcohol,

That's slowly killing me.

So I'm searching for the better,

Searching for the better,

The better part of me.

For the better part of me.

Turning up the fan,

To keep the smoke out of my eyes

So that I can see.

Like a cloudy sky,

I'm holding on and staying high,

Trying to believe

We all have to go sometime.

Your hold on me is stronger than the gravity,

That's slowly crushing me.

So I'm searching for the better,

Searching for the better,

The better part of me.

For the better part of me

/lj-cut style="></h1>

If the snow ceased to be beautiful; Instead becoming lethal to whatsoever you cherish most: The aspect of your life which you innately consider to be your source of 'home':
Would you be able to revert to  it's initial mantle of decoration in your world? Once your 'home' finally came to rest beyond apparition; Implicating an irrevocable transformation over your origins of asylum; Could a pallid blanket, of frigid frost, represent purity and exert beauty in your eyes ever again? Would you be able to free it from the embodiment of ruin?

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPad.

Holy-crap, time is still flying by. I thought it would get a grip on me at
some point after my fears had broken through my emote dam. I built it
even though I had already known it wouldn't hold those fears from
inevitably flowing; At this point now, having flown, to fruition. This
was the reason for my chronophobia... Wasn't it?! WASN'T IT?!?

I just wan't the ride to stop here, I'm ready to get off. I'm disoriented, exhausted, and I am lacking a neccesary measure of 'hope'. I feel so useless. I am entirely listless. PLEASE GOD, help me understand the reason for my life. I really do feel like a degenerate; A total waste of sentience.



( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Dec. 31st, 2012 10:52 pm (UTC)
Theres nothing like having a second father, or rather papa was a true father. Like my Dad was my blood father but my nana was more of a parent than he was because she was there for me more often. In that aspect I can grasp the relationship between you and papa
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )


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