Is life a tradition!

the record store girl in Pretty in pink states something that is quite interesting.

No no go ahead you can light that cig, i dont mind...let me pull the window down.

So is life a tradition, that we live because it's already charted out somewhere the way we have to follow the program or take little deviations here and there but still follow it to an extent that the other people around us and you and i, we all somehow are walking the same path.

Huh....

More so for women, i dont mean to sound feminist, which i'm, but at every little step of our growing up, we are supposed to be a certain way, follow the program, but then i guess the same goes for men too, the pressure for them to take care of thier families, succeed in what they do, if they arent even a little bit...god save the wrath they get from people around them.

Take me home...

We have walked,
in the fog of the dusk...

We have spoken,
in the darkest of the hour...

We have lent each other shoulders,
when our eyes escaped..

We've breathed in our souls,
when enraged...

Yet...

I'm the one you'll never see...
i'm the one who lives within...

I'm the faith you have in yourself
i'm the love you feel for yourself

And the next time...
when you and i walk

there'll be only one shadow in the light of the moon.

Out(spoken)

I cant believe i still have it in me.....When you rough up yourself, the not so rough moments take you by surprise.

I just want to grab by shoulders and scream my thoughts out and tell what it means, but then i wonder if it means anything to..... In these moments of indecision, i live a life that I've already prevailed. I inhabit in a landscape of memories I cant gather courage to sidestep EVER.

Will the unspoken conversations never see the day of their prominence, will those just fade away like the rest. 

But if they do see their day, would it bring any solace to the worlds torn apart, bring any calm to the worlds that exist unshared....I couldnt decide and still cant, but who am i to decide that, WHO ??? so those "secrets" (as the author eloquently puts it) will just dance along with me, even though i speak of things that hold no esteem. The storms in my head are spinning me to territories unknown and yet roots my feet to the familiar lands. (Dont ask me to decipher any of this, i cant, i wont, i may but i still wont.)

Can the silence be broken with such grace and bravery like the person who mailed the secret! Dream on, baby!