When the world looks a little different than what it's supposed to be...
Date: Jan 19th, 2007 6:55:58 pm - Subscribe
Mood: sedated
Music: 'Back For Me'- Gavin Mikhail

There was this buzzing noise; a droning that startled the heart and froze the mind.

It started out quiet at first, just choosing to be a small prick of forgotten memory for a moment before carefully growing more potent until it had successfully muffled the power of one ear, and became a constant, painful ringing in the other.

"Someone's talking."

The wind screamed as though it had something important to say, even though everyone around this town just saw it as a constant nuisance and continued on their grumbling ways.

So I just rolled my eyes and walked on by, my hands stuffed in my worn jacket, head down, wind whispering, while my head sang some old tune I couldn't remember the words to.

The lifeless hues of autumn had long since passed, as the frosty colors of winter were starting to make their rounds, painting the grass a dull speckled white. The trees around sparkled with the ice that clung to their crackling branches and preserved them in time. They would come back to life when the sun finally warmed instead of glared against the white sky. If they wanted to, that is.

But the sky didn't bother me today. For I was fascinated by the ground. By the concrete right under my shoes. By the breaks and turns, the different pieces that constructed it and all the imperfections that it held. It was nothing spectacular; just the simple things that people rarely noticed.

But, maybe if they stopped and looked closer, they would notice what I saw that day.

That it was as if every person's story were en-sketched in those sidewalks.

The idiosyncratic ways the pavement twisted formed the life lines of a person; one who fell and rose; loved and lived. They were born at one end, and died at the other. Then the other lines that hadn't been eliminated passed the dead ones, and continued on their dangerous paths.

It was so crowded that if you stepped on a fracture you could land in the middle, beginning or end of someone's story; or perhaps even a prelude, epilogue or sequel.

And while the story rambled on, going over every emotional plot twist, you could choose to care, or to ignore every little detail that made that person who they were.

The fantastical; the subtle intelligence; the hilarious; the depressing; the terrible; the diseased. It was all there in one little curvy line that ended abruptly. And it all created a being that either made a difference to the world- to one single person- or destroyed everything they ever had.

Either way, no matter how insignificant those lines may seem, it's still a life, and you stepped on it.


My left side grew numb, as the painful ringing sounded again in my right ear.


"Somebody's talking."


I glanced up at the sky.


"Yeah, but are you listening?"



Comments: (5)


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Comments:
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lost_souls - January 20th, 2007
Damn, I really wish I could write like you do. This was beautiful.

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lost_souls - January 21st, 2007
Well thank you. =]

anonymous - January 22nd, 2007
did u write that ???

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lost_souls - January 24th, 2007
Hehe thanks, I will definitely take that advice.

But about the running, I can't go running because of my injured hips. Believe me, if I could, I would. It's painful even to walk, so running wouldn't be such a good idea. But oh how I miss it sometimes.

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lost_souls - January 25th, 2007
Thanks, I really hope so too!


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