Hello Lyrics by Evanescence

Playground schoolbell rings, again
Rainclouds come to play, again
Has no one told you she's not breathing?
Hello, I'm your mind, giving you someone to talk to...Hello...
If I smile and don't believe
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream
Don't try to fix me
I'm not broken
Hello, I'm the lie living for you so you can hide.
Don't cry.
Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping
Hello, I'm still here, all that's left
Of yesterday

walled in, shut out, pushed aside-
my silence fits right into the gaps of the stream of voices.
perhaps thats where i belong.

Diverted laughter fills the gaps silence burned between the two of us in its wake.

The air crisp, almost tangy. The icy smell of the approaching season with mahogany leaves lying at our feet. The days we coyly circled each other, breathless and giddy from the exhilaration of every word, the briefest touch. Days, hours stolen and given stretched and shimmered before us.

I remember that one Thursday night so vividly – your bright yellow t-shirt and grey hoodie, rumbling tummies, my capris rolled down at the bottom to shield my bare calves from the damp chill, you shielding me from the rest of the world.

One heartbeat. Two.

Then it vaporized, was discarded carelessly. Perhaps forgotten.

been devouring books these days.. just finished maoII, middlesex, shopaholic takes manhattan and can you keep a secret since monday.. well no i havent been skipping classes just to read.. they simply became my amusement, my consolation, my escape.

no darling john keats, beauty isnt truth. beauty is escape from the dodgy-ness, the mundane- the "truth" often called "reality". why would i be content late at night feeling shelled out, discarded, temporary in my own life stories to read its "beauty" when there are words written from another's pain, another's life i can simply hold tangible in my hands to immerse myself in? why should i stare at my reflection searching for a trace of beauty when words feed my imagination with carbs to produce it in my mind?

words, words i press against my tired eyes, my sore shoulders. words i stuff into my skull like wads of cotton wool, that shrouds and displaces my vision and train of thought. but there is too much in real life i want.

can't you see? they are so predictable, my own. they sit quietly on my table with its slightly curled covers, the rustle of pages only a trick of the mind, an imaginary breeze. they offer me no warmth, no desire, no sound.. only words oF warmth, of intoxicating desires, music, light, hurt. i laugh, i cry, i dwell thoughtfully with these words. but they are so far away. but these feelings.. they aren't mine. the characters aren't me. once again, i dont belong.

how come it is always up to me? for once tell me how much i am wanted, let me hold those thoughts against my hollowed throat the way i hold printed pages up to the lamp. or just let me know. even being less than one foot away has become unfamiliar.

i walk in the falling snow, the wet swirling flakes melting on my reddened cheeks, my eyelashes.. alot lighter than the tears they held up an hour before. the cold was somehow soothing this afternoon though, it numbed my body, leaving only my concentration in walking across the ice/snow covered field in my dangerous shoes and my breathing to remind me im alive. tranquil almost, if you may.

why did i come? maybe i just wanted to get out of the house. maybe i just wanted a walk. maybe i just wanted to see you. maybe i just wanted to test the possibility of finding a little hint, an encouragement perhaps? maybe i shouldnt have come. not even yesterday. you tell me.