nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone.

There's something very gratifying about a nice and dreary rainy day. I wouldn't mind having this weather for the next few days. Just makes me feel like putting on a hoodie and staying indoors all day, watching the rain fall.

Jim: Oh no, he'll come back. We all come back, Kate. These private little revolutions always die. The compromise is always made. In a peculiar way, Frank is right - every man does have a star. The star of one's honesty. And you spend your life groping for it, but once it's out it never lights again. I don't think he went very far. He probably just wanted to be alone to watch his star go out.

I feel like I've aged a lot in the span of a few weeks. Things that used to be so simple and innocent suddenly seem convoluted and restricted. Does everything really have to have a motive behind it? Can't we all just do things because we want to? Why must everything take on a sudden monumental significance? To me, it's like, how, we spend the majority of our childhood discovering our identities, only to find out, the world doesn't really accept us for who we are. What the world wants is a stereotype. A carbon-copy. And try as we might to resist, it's only a matter of time before we realise how futile our efforts are and let our identities get choked out of us.

SHATTERED - OF A REVOLUTION (OAR)

in a way, i need a change
from this burn-out scene
another time, another town,
another everything
but it's always back to you

stumble out in the night,
in the pouring rain
made the block,
sat and thought
there's more i need.
it's always back to you.

how many times can i break 'til i shatter?
over the line, can't define what i'm after.
i always turn the car around.
give me a break, let me make my own pattern,
all that it takes is some time
but i'm shattered.
i always turn the car around.

all that i feel is the realness i'm faking
taking my time
but it's time that i'm wasting.
i always turn the car around.