Sparrow

Welcome to this world.

Welcome to this design.

Do you know me here?

I fucking don't. My stomach aches. My brain is fucked. Can't nothing fix this, is there darling? :)

Am I sad? Upset? Nope. This is the place I don't give a fuck except for the one where I made it home safely.

Thank fuck for that.

I know I have practice in 7 hours. I know I'm supposed to be cool calm and collected.

I know who I'm supposed to be.

Not sure I could fill her shoes now, even if needed.

Who the fuck is Kate Sparrow anyway?

I think she's sone version of someone I created. Is she real?

Yep. I created Sparrow to feel for me. There's nothing left of the person I dropped when I created Sparrow. The name replaced is nothing. She was some girl I killed long ago because frankly, she needed death. If she hadn't made such a fuckery of her life she may still exist. But she was dorky. She was socially inept. She was... Clueless. And now she's dead. To me. To everyone I hope.

Now... That's not to say Sparrow is a good person. She tries. She has her ups and downs. She loves deeply. She feels deeply. She writes deeply. That other girl? Some virgin version of someone I could never keep round. Everyone made her what she was- a loser.
Who wants to be a loser forever? No one.

So Sparrow started REALLY writing music. And making friends. And being some sort of something. People liked Sparrow, because she was nothing like the girl she had replaced. And Sparrow adapted to the world she was supposed to, given her enviornment. She never stopped loving anyone she cared for. Not for an instance.
In fact those few precious people burned into her soul like wildfire. Those who were there before- and after.
She clung to them as her life changed. They were not lovers. Just loves. People given the chance she would defend to death. She would have done, and still do anything for them.
They stay as so many others leave. The people believed constant meerly gypsies in this play. Truth is a harsh mistress, as is trust.

As the transformation progressed Sparrow realized what the realism was, and what the fake shit she was involved in. She was playing some part because she believed it to be something that went with who she wanted to be.

Wanted to be, yes. But she lacked all that made the life real. So she stopped. Foolish she felt, that life had never suited her anyway. Yet somehow she knew it would haunt her, and she knew why....

The days played on. She wrote. She loved. She even died. But not even death could keep her from her ultimate goal: musical domination.

Domination is such a strong word. What she wanted was someone to understand her lyrics. Her truth. She wanted her truth to reach others as so many had reached her. She wanted to help. Could she?

Still a truth that can not be told. There's still so much left out of the lyrics. A life full, brimming even, begging to be written. Aah yes, a complicated life without the words it seems. But the lyrics written deep, and full, and often dark as the life she'd known had been.

Too many experiences, too little time. Perhaps it wouldn't be right to write of it all? Perhaps that would simply be too much.

I think that this entry is not for broken hearts. More of real life.

Perhaps there is music out there that speaks to the exact emotion of what she or anyone is feeling. Find that truth. Be strong. Take heart.