The new and still old

Everyday it always seem to be a goodbye to something old, it always has been that way for me, for another or someone else. Its either an old habit, a trait or the way I speak. I guess in a way, I have to change a lot of 'me'. You know sometimes, you can't get this funny feeling , that you aren't doing your best even though you did? Well I guess it haunts me even more when I try.

Everyday though I learn new things, I tend to dwell on the old. For some reason, I still don't know why. To me, in a way, these things are loose ends and needed to be closed behind. But still the solitary part of youth inside me, just want to turn loose and let go..(lets hope I don't turn crazy just yet) Its as if I'm trying to grow but the past, I can't let go.

I guess its a transition, we all encounter and the sanctuary we try to hide from everyone else. But in a way, it does have its ups. When i run away from the 'real world', I live a life of dreams and fantasy. The lonely bus rides and meeting strangers in the bus. The things we can do, when we aren't living. We can pretend to be angels that walk amongst people. In a way, I like to be alone. but then again, its a solitude place where its llimited to dreams.

The paints of my brushes still paint the lights of the skies, and yet I'm still here looking at the screen hoping they will be someone out there in the other side. People tell me to stop writing poetry cause its a waste of time. But yet i still write, even though I must admit I must change the style.

Well as the new pages of my life seems to unfold every minute, I can't get the feeling that the things of old still remain. The old textbooks, the funny letters, the pranks I did, the jokes I failed, the cards, the embrarassing moments that still haunt me, the ghost stories, the cheeky thoughts will always remain with me.

As in August of eighth, I'm still a little boy of me.