finding an umbrella.
Tuesday. 6.3.08 6:11 pm
Some days I am alive. Some days I am not.
It's simple to think that the people you adore will simply love you. It's simple to make believe that life will pertain to some relevance, that we are not living to die, but living to live. It's days I am dead that I lie dormant. My body, moving and acting without a mind. It's day I am alive that I feel, I live, I hope. I fall.
To you, it might seem like a daily event but the potholes that inconveniently litter my road do nothing for my sense of well being, my sense of security. It's avoiding those potholes that I lose you. I do not care to hold on, the fall is worth the feeling of being alive, rather than looking it.
Maybe it's a mixture of depression and elation that cause such misgivings. Maybe it's the way you raise your hands to your head when your brother dies, when your sister lives, when your dog runs away. Maybe it's because I might be a little too crazy. It's the maybes in my life that form the potholes, that give way to my restless mind.
I look at you and smile, because you've made it. You did not bother glancing around, as I sat in the back of the room but you knew I was there. Giving any recognition would not benefit either of us, I sat smiling at your back and you realizing that I'm there without visual contact, it's enough! It's enough. To know existence. To know when a heart beats and when does not. It's a gift. It's losing your mind everytime the rain kicks in and you realizing that you left your umbrella on the one train that has already departed. I'm sitting there and I'm thinking to myself, I'm drowning. Find an umbrella, I'm drowning.
Tuesday. 5.27.08 8:22 pm
I want you to second guess yourself when you see me. To look at your hands and lose your train of thought. I want you to be as hopelessly lost as I am, just so we can wander the rest of our days in the same state. Wandering yet, completely home, our minds connected as our feet become covered with dirt. I want you to love me because I cannot love. Reach for my hands and nothing else. Converse till I can count the stars and follow them, home.
Reach for my hands and show me that people are not all the same.
Wednesday. 5.21.08 10:50 pm
I remember when I used to look at you and see so much more. But the things I had once seen seem to have disappeared with the notions you now percieve to be your very own. When I look at you the terror of not knowing grips my heart with each passing moment, the feeling persistant but unmistakable. I can hear the glass breaking from the dropped window, I can feel the emotion radiating from each little shard of glass as they glitter upon the ground. They're filled with the hopes you and I once had, when things were much different and the earth moved in regular patterns. Kind of like my heart. Or my life. Pick one and leave all the rest because in the end! In the end, we are all but shards of broken glass. We glitter, no doubt but that's about all we are able, allowed. Empty in our beauty, in our broken little fragile bodies. I do not wish to be fragile, however, because I wish to be so much more. Wistful in my imagination. Entirely too, hopeful. We lie on the ground together. We lie there wishing our bodies were complete, our minds busy, our souls, touching.
Remember when our souls touched? I think I can recall, the memory not so hazy in distance but clear from the distinct moment of truth, connection, lies.
Oh, but to love is never favourable. The outcome, unbearable to the point where there is simply no point in going home. Now I am a little tiny piece of broken glass. It's moments like these when I realize the isolation, the emptyness. My soul longs to cry out but the pride will always be there, the will, it will always be there! The song remains the same, our souls remain distant, as they have been for quite some time now. From time to time I'll realize the cages we put ourselves in and wonder when the circumstances will differ.
One day I'll find the source of the anxiety. But until then I will lie there in my uncertainty, so aware yet so helpless. Because that's all we really are. That's all I am.
I hear the sound of glass breaking. I lie there and wonder where you are on a night so dark and a world so empty.
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