Encumbrance
Date: Jan 16th, 2007 3:37:06 am - Subscribe
Mood: Troubled.
Music: Simon and Garfunkel
It's a peculiar feeling, really. The dusty mist that hangs over the head, and the silky cobwebs that tangle themselves in the brain. An infestation of black widows with icicles draped from the bottom of their legs and images of barren landscapes burned in their eyes. With the sudden poisonous bite, blankets of ice cement the mind with a oppressive emotion. Sips of venom bleed into the cerebral galaxy and glide across neurons, jumping across flashes of electricity. It continues to travel through the mind, passing by the paleocircuits that has been poisoned for quite some time now. Within just a few glistening moments, the ballet is over and a community of arachnids crawl back into microscopic crevasses in the skull to tend their nests that shelter scores of eggs.
Although the venom can be deadly, it is not guaranteed. An anti venom can be released, but first, one must taste the bitter bliss of toxin. Fire can melt ice, but a fire needs a catalyst, and a catalyst needs to be found.
It's a numbing feeling, really. The arctic wind that howls in the chest, exhausting an icy breath. The freezing temperatures corrode muscle tissue and bring stiff aches to the bones. A character of carbon crystalizes, forming a cold skeleton. His mishapen head sits upon his spine of frozen rose petals with two blue irises. Two shades of frosty azure, with pearls shining at the bottom of pools of aqueous humor.
Although it's a chilling gaze, it rests above rosy cheeks, biten by the winter. All is not gloomy in warm comfort of the sunrise.
Comments: (2)
A hint of inspiration.
Date: Jul 24th, 2006 9:11:49 am - Subscribe
Music: The sounds of morning.
An open window stretches from horizon to horizon. Countless specs of light shimmer down upon puddles of an early rain. Their light glistens off of the drops of water that dive through the leaves of trees. The water creates an echo as they hit that races into the streets.
Shifty shadows lurking in the corner of vision send the illusion that you're not alone. Desperatly searching for light, the eyes begin to cheat and create figures that dash out of sight once they have been spotted. Dull transparent blades pierce the fog that hovers above the ground.
Dust bones lay quiet in the cemetery lots. Graves create a library of memories and secrets that have disentigrated in the fast flowing stream of time. If only the dead could see the stars tonight. If only I could see the stars tonight.
Bullfrogs, cicadas and crickets sing broken yet beautiful notes that create the music of the night. Tranquil sounds of warmth spread across the water, through the cat-tails and into the dead of night before disolving into a faint echo. The only orchestra that will follow you no matter where you go.
Metal spokes revolving around and around carrying the body in control. Wet rubber speeding on top of pavement that is just as wet. A deep voice remains silent while a racing mind works feverishly to describe itself poetically. My mind drifts across the canvas of the sky with open sails to catch the winds of time. Soar across the fourth dimension, leaving my body behind.
Comments: (4)
An Entry to Pass the Time.
Date: May 24th, 2006 1:13:20 am - Subscribe
Mood: Alone, like always.
Music: Beck - "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime"
Golden and magenta clouds sink to the distant ground, while still maintaining their air-like structure. Plastic keys, not fitting for locks, are tapped slightly, creating a rough rhythm for me to follow. My fingers conduct them with some sort of purpose, but I myself don't even know it's true meaning. Really, what is the meaning? Is my time too hollow for me to enjoy it? Is there even any point to it... a plot, characters, anything.
I don't think so.
It's just my restlessness driving me with some insane force. It presses me to pump out words that flow together majestically, but always resemble a pile of rocks over time.
Am I a poet?
Can I show it?
Can I even rhyme?
Make you laugh,
Make you cry.
Dazzle you with every line?
Well of course not. But if I was, would I want it? Would I even want to write a few stanzas down and show them to you? Bah, I doubt it. My words look better hidden behind pages, rather than being in the open for all to see.
Would you like to judge me, and criticize me?
Point and laugh foolishly?
Again I bring myself to the question of what the point of this is. I still don't know, but I'm sure my subconcience does.
Comments: (1)
Stellar.
Date: May 4th, 2006 12:22:35 am - Subscribe
Mood: Like an astronaut who just broke through the atmosphere.
Music: David Bowie - "Space Oddity"
Finally, the grass is no longer a dead brown color. It's soft and sways with the warm breeze. The days are warmer, and we see the sun's bright face more. Trees are coming back to live, to give a home to their thousands of leafy residents. Birds have returned from their journey from the south, and they brought a few new tunes with them. A few new tunes to sing to. My whistles mimic their songs, just with more structure, but I'll never accomplish what they create everyday.
It's been months since I've been able to not have to worry about wearing an extra layer outside. Months since I've had the freedom that May brings. The need to cover up just to protect myself from the cold. That extra layer never did much to fight the cold in the first place. I was never warm. Once the frost crystalized the ground, my feet were frozen to the soil. It's been months since I've been able to walk.
Everytime I tried to move my feet, the ice would crack. A few times I think it might have even broken. Jack Frost got the best of me, though. My bones were too brittle to progress and right before my eyes I was unable to move again. It seemed like I stood there for an eternity, pondering everything around and about me, waiting for the sun to thaw my shackles.
Winter months are too long, and the sun came too late. Every once in a while it would taunt me by showing it's bright face in a blue sky. Taunting me with it's freedom and happiness. I was jealous of it's power, but my arms are far too weak to grab a piece of it's strength.
Eventually, I got so used to my new home that I almost didn't want to leave. The grey sky was miserable, and it's misery was shedding to the Earth below. Clouds, clusters that were as thin as air, were now much heavier. They crushed everything below them. I asked them a few times if they would push me into the ground and let the worms break me free. The weight let up before the clouds broke my body, but my mind had already been ruined.
The dry air dehydrated by skin, and eventually my insides. I soon became just a shell of myself standing on frozen ground.
Luckily, I was able to see the sun once again. It's bright rays moistened the ground, and the clouds dropped all the rain that they had been holding back. My skin and bones were functional again. No longer did I stand. The muscles and inner workings of myself were barely functioning, but at least they moved. The world around me came back to life along with me. Never before have I had such a respect for spring.
Now I enjoy the world that has been reborn. Noticing everything that I have missed, and taking note of everything that I would hate to never see again. Communities of flowers give me their quiet attention, and if only they could utter a few words I would love to hear what they had to say. Dandelions bloom and spread each day, because they know that soon they won't be able to. A few birds glide past and I send them a wave before they're out of site. In th back of my head, I wish that I could see them more often, maybe even become friends. The front of my head tells me that I have no buisness with birds, so I let them fly.
The stars above stand behind the moon. Every star has it's own story that has little importance to it's closest neighbor. All bodies revolve around that star, and entire novels could be writen on the events that occur on these places. A thousand libraries couldn't even contain all the stories that have been told. These stories mean nothing to me, and my stories mean nothing to that star. One day my story will burn out, just like that star. My light will stop reaching the eyes of those who wish upon me. Once my story ends, my light will still travel to eyes million miles away. Light can travel fast, but not fast enough. Eventually though, this light will be gone. But not today, and not for a long time. This is my story, and I still have a long time before my light dissapears.
But when it does, I won't feel bad.
Comments: (2)
Paints.
Date: Nov 30th, 2005 1:09:19 am - Subscribe
Mood: Universal.
Music: Patrick Wolf - "Pigeon Song"
Standing on the edge a cliff, peering off into the deep blue distance. Storm clouds roll in on top off the liquid abyss. Lightning emerges and quickly scatters across the ominous sky. Winds blow against the towering rocks, swaying the small amounts of brush that reach out for life. Shades of blue and green seem to lag behind their designated forms.
Blank.
Running as fast as your legs can carry you through the forest, yet you can barely move. The muscles and joints in your legs are as stiff as nails and heavier than bricks. The smell of the coniferous trees is powerful. Scents of fir, spruce and pine take control of the air. Something is coming quick behind, but the being is unknown. Making way through the woods, your feet smash puddles, kick up mud and leave your trail.
Blank.
Behind the wheel. White and red lights are everywhere to be seen. Red staying steady in front with white fast approaching to the left. Rain is coming down hard on the windshield. The wipers can barely keep up with the flood from above. The passenger is talking about past events. By the time he is finished with a sentence, you have completely forgotten what he said. In fact, you've completely forgotten what has happened. Time and memories just slip right away. Your mind just decides to discard these thoughts. The face of the passenger is so familiar, but the name does not match the memory. It's almost like you see this person everyday, but have almost no idea who they are. It doesn't matter though, because you are too busy examining the person next to you to notice the white lights getting brighter and brighter until they explode on the front of your vehicle.
Blank.
The comforts of home relax the mind. Everything is at peace inside your head. Reds, oranges, and yellows are hanging on the walls. The details from your own very home are placed in their proper place. Maybe it is home. But how can home fit into microscopic tunels and strings? How can home be composed of electric pulses? Somehow it is, and everone there enjoys it. No one knows where exactly they are or why except for you. You have the puzzle solved and all the pieces in place. For once you have the ability to control this world. You can make choices and interact with others, when really you are just interacting with yourself.
Blank.
Now you find yourself in a past home. These memories haven't come up in months, but are now a three dimensional picture with emotion. Everyone from this memory is there, all following their paths that they were assigned. Everything is set up for you. An entire plot all planned out. You're the star of the theatrical play, but you never got to read the script.
Blank.
Gliding above the city below. A song begins to play that has been in your head for the past couple of days. In this sense, you are meeting that song in your head. The lights glow and sparkle. They grow a little dimmer, and you grow a little heavier. The more the lights dim, the more you fall. Once they're out, the ground pulls you forward.
Blank.
The knife is raised high and brought down deep. The blade slices right through the flesh. Once you look down at the gruesome mess, you can begin to feel the knife. It's cold metal ripping the insides of your body to shreds. The pain shoots right through your chest. Your hand reaches out to pull the knife out. Stuck on the knife is your pulsating heart. It's still pumping the blood through your veins even though it's outside your flesh. Every pulse that you see allows you to feel the blood pump through you.
Blank.
Everything is fake. All of it unrealistic. Animals are talking and people are crawling. Some of this comes off quite humorous while some it is down right scary. Anything you can ever imagine seems quite possible. The only problem is that you don't have a grasp on your imagination. Your imagination is running wild. It's all around you, everywhere you look. Now you walk amonst your imagination. Anyone would find it strange to see their thoughts portrayed in front of them. To be inside their thoughts. Not everyone remembers this.
Blank.
Your eyes open to the dim room you were always in. Eight hours of laying in a bed has turned into a slew of adventures that lasted hours, days or even weeks. Thoughts lay scattered about. It's almost as if you had been gone in a whole different universe complete with tons of worlds and events of it's own. I suppose this is true. You have just created this universe without ever realizing it. Convincing yourself that you haven't left your bed this entire time can be a little hard. Even dissapointing.
Now it's time to life in this universe. Possibly someone else's. Possibly someone else's illusion that lays on a pillow on top of another matress.
Comments: (4)
Violence.
Date: Nov 13th, 2005 2:14:45 am - Subscribe
Mood: Insecure.
Music: Interpol - "Stella Was a Diver and She Was Always Down"
Hey Kevin. It's me again. Just been wondering what you've been up to. Sorry if my messages have been getting a little repetive lately but I'm beginning to become concerned. We haven't talked in a while. I'd love to talk. Maybe we could hang out and catch up on some old times. That'd be nice. I've heard that you've been pretty caught up lately. Yeah, I know how that goes. It's easy to get lost. If you'd ever like to talk, I'm here but we need to get caught up with eachother first. Alright, well I hope to hear from you soon. Talk to you later.
Sincerely,
Conscious Thought.
Comments: (1)
This will be jumbled.
Date: Oct 19th, 2005 12:09:15 am - Subscribe
Mood: :XFNH'jnhe'okhn
Music: Cursive - The Ugly Organ.
Sudden nubness. My teeth are disintegrating. Vision is blurred. Focus is only directed on a single thing at a time. Sound is coming from another room, but it's right in front of me. Disoriented.
Time seems to just slip away. It slips away so fast that I can't even remember what is going on. My mind is drawing a complete blank. By the time I come to, it feels like I have fallen asleep and have woken up the next day in another home. I don't know who stands in front of me.
That was Saturday evening.
Confusion. Headache. Judgemental of myself. My faults are now clearer. My poor choices are much more vivid in my mind. I'm ill and some people keep telling me how to fix it. I don't want to know the specifics. Your concern is annoying, because you continue to press it on me. Your concern always comes off as demanding anyways.
"You should do this and that. It will make you better. Kevin, if you don't do this you won't get better."
But where is the real medical help that I have been asking for over a month now? My shoulder aches so I ask to get medical advice, but I was never even set up to get it. You two are so shallow and dissapointing. All talk, but no action. I am always begging to do something interesting. All you do is get my hopes up and shoot them down with the usual excuses. My age and experience is allowing me to see through your bullshit. Your passive traits reflect onto me as well. After all, you are the role models I suppose. I never see you though. There are always the quick conversations while we stand in the kitchen, but half the time those are shallow chats with little meaning. I don't really want to talk about the usual topics so I make stupid comments and jokes. Half the time all you do is argue, aggrivate or ask what is wrong. I'm not going to tell you what's wrong, so stop asking.
Now, after Saturday evening, my emotions have been all around. It's like a little roulette that spins every hour. And there are quite a few hours in the waking day, so that leads to fun times. My mind is scattered all over. Another spin of the roulette. I can't seem focus. While the teacher rambles on about what they have to say, I just quietly drift away into my deep thoughts. I sit and think about what's wrong and what's right. What's aggrivating and what's pleasing. I sometimes feel like my thoughts are pouring out of my head and I can't keep them inside. Some get away and can never be caught again. I'm dissapointed to have to go through similair days that just seem to mesh together, but happy to see select people. The happy faces. It's nice to have someone that will listen.
I just hope that all of this passes over. I would like to wake up one of these days and not feel so drained, but rather energized. To drop all of these negative feelings and to move on. To be healthy.
I have many more thoughts but I have no idea on how to put them into words. I lose the majority of them anyways. I feel like the stereotypical teen.
Comments: (5)
Grab the bike and go.
Date: Aug 31st, 2005 6:42:21 am - Subscribe
Mood: adventurous
Music: The Cure - "Fascination Street"
It's 1 in the morning, and the rain is coming down hard. Grab the warm, dry sweatshirt and slide into the shoes. I run outside into the storm and ride my bike away on the street.
Out of no where, I stop to ask myself what I am doing. Where am I going? Why am I out in the pouring rain, on a cold night? Why am I careening all over the road, back and forth? What drove me to suddenly jump up and leave?
I don't know, but I feel no need to know. I pedal faster around the corner and under the dim streetlights. Without them, I would surely be lost. It is far too dark for anyone to see farther than two houses down. Around the next corner, onto the dark street. Pedal faster.
Slowly it gets darker and darker. For some reason, I am not paranoid in this darkness, alone. Usually I would be worried about something small. Something running about in a bush, which is actually nothing really. I keep going. I'm soaked from the rain. I pass by a house being built, and the rain amplifies the scent of the lumber. Even though the house is far from the road, the scent is strong. Around the next corner to an even darker road.
Nothing is on my mind at all. I am open to the world and everything in it. Whatever I see is a thought. I don't let petty problems and antagonists tie me up now. That would be ridiculous. Why let people ruin such a great moment? I'm not saying that the people and events in my life are bad, no. I like the life that I have. But sometimes, your social life and life in general seem to clutter your mind. Creating a wall between you and the real, natural world. Everything seemed so unneeded. The only moment that was of importance was the present. Not the future, or the past. Just riding my bike along, and enjoying the moment.
I come to the potential end of my journey. Take a left and I go home. Right and I continue on. I'm covered in wet clothes, and the wind is making me cough from the chill.
Right.
Only a single light on this road. I pedal past it and then come to the bend in the road. I can just see a large black area which I know is a field with trees, hay bales and grass. Proceed down the road. Or up. However you look at it, because now I am going tup a hill. Climbing to the top, with winds blowing hard against me and the rain showing no mercy. Get to the top, and quickly turn around to the slope. This is it. This is the climax of my journey.
Down and down. Faster and faster. Soon, I am going too fast for my bike, and pedaling does absolutely nothing for my bike. The rain becomes painful, and the wind horribly cold. There are only seven days of summer left. Does this bike ride have some sort of hidden meaning? I go through summer, to come to a high ending and then I can see in front of me nothing. I just have the memory of the past ride. I can't make out the future year coming up. I have no idea what is going to be waiting in the road. Just a bunch of stone and running water. Keep on riding. Into the future. Future becoming present.
Around the bends, and into my driveway. Drop the bike, and come inside. Warmth.
Comments: (4)
Time.
Date: Aug 19th, 2005 3:57:40 am - Subscribe
Mood: well
Music: Godspeed You! Black Emperor - "Storm"
Nostalgia fills me. It flows through me constantly, and now more than ever. This constant comparision between now and what was last summer. It's odd really. There is something about this summer that just doesn't feel right. Something hidden.
I just can not put my finger on it. Through out my entire mind, I keep thinking of last summer. There was a certain sense of those days that was pleasant. At the time I had no idea that I would think back and actually enjoy the thought of the long, lonely summer days and the short, drowsy nights. Maybe I have sheltered myself from the green trees and blue skies. My windows are usually blocked by maroon sheets now.
I ripped them down the other day. Down they came to reveal the outside world. It seemed almost symbolic in a way. Tearing down these barriers to see out at the active people and the moving cars. It was then that I touched the feeling of last summer. I could feel it. It ran through my veins like a new blood. I was delighted to have actually accomplished feeling that again. That feeling was something I wanted to experience again for a while.
By this time, my mind had begun to destroy that feeling. I took a mminute to think about how everything has chnaged over the course of a single year. That year seems like an eternity. Almost a complete turn around. Nearly every aspect of just about everything is not the same. Looking back, it seemed like that was another world almost. That single year it's own world, with it's own characters and own events. Everything fits into that world, but when brought into this world, this year, it doesn't. The two clash somehow. This change was something that had to happen, though. It was inevitable. Without it, there would be no today.
Such a shame that I touched that feeling of last year so late this summer. August is already midway and school is coming soon.
I'm anxious for autumn. There is a certain feel of it that is very nice. The way the trees drop the dead leaves, the shorter days, and the chilled air. And then comes winter. The endless months of dead land. Silence on top of freshly fallen snow.
It's funny how you appreciate something more after you lost it. You long for summer during the freezing nights. You cherish the time you had with friend's after you've come home. You desire to spend more time with someone close after they have left.
I find it crucial to retain as many memories as possible from those special times. You always seem to get to caught up in the moment to actually be grateful of the time you are having. I keep a photo album of memories locked inside of my mind. Plaed where nothing can rip it apart or tear the binding. Always placing new photographs on fresh pages.
Comments: (1)
An odd case of emotion.
Date: Aug 1st, 2005 3:59:09 am - Subscribe
Mood: spacey
Music: Incubus - "Aqueous Transmission"
Up and down. Here and there. Almost manic. A strange path of emotions for me. And to add to this odd mess, I don't have an explaination for it. Nothing. At times events set me off and send me into a lifeless mood, but for the most part I can't find a reasoning. When this mood hits though, it hits like a high wind blowing me down. No matter how hard I try I can't seem to pick myself up. Not in a sad mood. Not in a depressed moon. More of a oppressing mood. Thoughts come from every direction, all relating to something different. Coming in swarms too fast to comprehend. My mind tells me to slow down. To take a break. Lets think about things instead of doing them. How about we shut down for a while, shall we?
Could it possibly be these decaying summer days that are causing this? The rotting hours of breathing in still, chilled air. This perpetual cycle of waking, small talk all day and then back to sleep. Little events, with a larger one thrown into the mix randomly. I always tell myself to get out more. To do something. But the drive behind that desire is small, and my conscious always brings me down one way or the other.
My thoughts usually bring me to one of two variations of my abnormal mood. One of which being too happy. Thinking of all things great and wonderful that has happened or is happening at that moment. At that single moment everything seems so great that it is almost too good. This results in a physical mood that is rather sluggish. Although my thoughts are encumbered with delightful memories. On the other hand, there is the opposite variation of this mood. The one that is just overall doltish. Neither my physical or mental being are in progress. Slowing all the way down to a halt. Often influenced by comparing things to those of old. Old times.
It's odd to see what can lift these thoughts and moods sometimes. Of course some things are expected, and are guaranteed to bring you up. Things like spending much needed time with someone. Delighted to see them evn though you see that person on a regular basis. Things that you wouldn't even expect. Something like a meaningful conversation between a friend. Or looking up at the stars ontop of buildings composed of huge bricks of hay.
There is something special about something like that. Some sort of connection between everyone there. The sense of long term friendships coming together to witness to marvelous night sky. Little spots twinkling way up, far away. The eye will trick you into thinking they aren't so far, but instead within arms reach, but when you reach out to grasp one of the little dots it dodges you by millions of miles.
Coming together with friends you haven't seen for weeks. Feeling free and careless amongst people is the greatest feeling. Comfort and silliness.
And the simplest thing that can bring a rising feeling, is the setting sun. Seeing the sky grow old while knowing you can enjoy this everyday if you wished, becuase the sun will be there again. It will rise and fall over and over again. It has been doing so for years before you, and will continue to do so until it just burns itself out. It wouldn't change it's ways for someone so small in the world like yourself. We are all tiny to someone. No matter how big you are, you are still miniscule to the red face. Nothing can change that.
Thinking about such things helps. If I just keep my mind set on those thoughts and memories, things should be fine.
This entry has become a large tower of rambling text. Amazing.
I appologize to all of those who have had to put up with my dullness this past week or so. It's ridiculous, really. No need to be in such a mind-set. But thanks for putting up with me. :]
Comments: (2)
Hm.
Date: Jul 27th, 2005 8:43:06 pm - Subscribe
Mood: odd
Music: Elysian Fields - "Tides of the Moon"
Do you all remember last year? Just a little bit more than a year ago it was. Everything was so new. So fresh. New frienships just coming to be.
Sitting down in that dim basement. The decorative lights illuminating the tiled floor. Pleasant smoke rising from thin sticks caressing our senses. The electronic music beeping, blaring and bumping through the air. The connection that bound us all together was incredible. Looking at the clock and just wishing that I could stay down there all night. We all felt the friendship, I know it. The boy getting all the attention. The boy who joked a lot and spoke his mind. The quiet boy who spoke but kept those undeniable feelings to himself. The young girl seeking that one thing to make her whole again. The lively girl who loved to jump and socialize with friends. The quiet girl who was looking for a relationship in all the wrong places. And the two young lovers who never seemed to be good for eachother. Anyone who was there and says they did not feel that friendship is in denial.
It's a shame that all of that is lost. A real shame. I feel sorry for those who have put out and tried to reconnect only to find out some people won't cooperate. Maybe it's for the best though. Sadly our single group has become two groups. Me being stuff right in the middle. It would be great to recreate what was made last year in that basement, but I have false hopes. Although, there is still a tiny light that still flickers in hope.
Things have changed. It's plain as day, and everyone knows it. All I am doing right now is stating old facts. I can sense the change in everyone, and I am sure they can do the same. From minor things, to drastic things. There is also the thought that these oldtime friends no longer like eachother. Parting is one thing, but this small hate is unexplained. Maybe it's just me, and I'm over estimating things. This change is so strong that it leaves an odd feeling in these summer days.
Someone new steps into the picture now. Already accepted. Very cool to add as well. ^.^ Many good times to come ahead.
Onto another subject. Judgement. Personally, I think it's foolish to judge someone's way of writing. If they choose to write it in a way that touches poetry or anything else, so be it. Would you rather read about the rundown of their week through dull words? The boring stories that we all share. Small talk. If you don't like it, then don't read it. And being more direct to the person who has done this, you probably think that I am standing up for others. Well I'm not. You have done it to me too, and the whole concept of it is dumb.
I hope some of you enjoyed this.
Comments: (2)
9:00PM
Date: Jul 20th, 2005 4:17:08 am - Subscribe
Mood: splendid
Music: The Smashing Pumpkins - "We Only Come Out at Night."
9:00 PM. My favorite time of the day. The way the tired sun falls to the West, creating multiple shades of blue all over the sky. The reds, oranges and magentas all meshing together. Below, the ground becomes dim and there is just enough light to allow you to see. The pale and dull night sun slowly moving across the sky to help illuminate the ground around you. Stars sparking light randomly above, millions of miles away. Everything you encounter is pleasing to the eye. Every lightning bug that flashes before you in the dark trees. Every tree that you pass. Every open field that lays silent.
The way the air rushes past you on a bike at this time is so cooling. It refreshes you, almost. Wherever you lay your eyes, your mind is suddenly filled with thoughts about life, people, and feelings. All of these thoughts come at you so fast, you can't make anything of it, but yet you somehow know the answer to every question you have. Some where deep in your thoughts, are these answers that you seek. You can hear them, but you can't see them.
As you look towards the clouds passing by, you begin to think of all those people who make a difference to you. Distant or close. Far or near. Suddenly you begin to realize how significant everything is to yourself, but so tiny to the outside world.
You finally make it home with the thought of not wanting to enter the house. The desire to stay out and just roam around endlessly until the sun comes up. You walk into your room just in time to catch a conversation with someone who has been waiting anxiously to talk. While you talk, you recap everything that has just happened. Every thought. Every moment. You couldn't feel more at peace.
Ahh. The night is still young. After all, it's only quarter to ten now and there are still many hours before the sun comes up.
Comments: (4)