12:40 p.m. - 2007-01-06
here's some advice, never give anyone advice
Do you think you could just drop it? Could you straighten out your back, sit up a little straighter, a little bit more, and try your hardest to act a bit more sane? It's not practible. The music is playing. There's no excuse for this. It's not even cold. They don't even look all that distant. Tees and shorts, running around in sixty degrees in January.
Screaming probably wouldn't help, but neither does stupidity. And the caffeine is feigning responsibility, but is truly apathetic. A pathetic attempt to stay alert and look interested. Caffeine is the drink of friendships, it has everyone fooled.
The gloom reflects the timing, but not the aspirations of it. We're not actually in this together. And despite how many times I am asked, I still don't know. I won't raise my glass to a night well spent and proclaim my pride. I won't even say outloud what I hope to hell we're both thinking. keep it all in. That's what happens in January you know..
We forget how to speak. We usually pass it of as being too cold to talk and bundled up too much to be able to hear anyway. This weather is melting all prior acquisations. I fear we'll have to rebuild this stoney heart syndrome. I think I need a new heart anyway. Not broken, so to speak, it just doesn't work properly. It's off beat and dosn't mesh well with the background music. This doesn't feel very alive.
Institutions filled, overflowing, chaos rings throughout the halls. They're trying to escape the loneliness of the season, banding together in pain and fear. They decorate like it's home and smile like they mean it and we try to hand out happiness like we have so much to spare. I guess in comparison, we do, but it's a heavy responsiblity for the moody minded.
Running across the sand in jeans and a sweatshirt. It's not cold, but only because of the concentration needed for breathing. The moon is gorgeous and golden and the sky is clear with the determination that 3.6 million people are dreaming of. Some will try to change it. Sad song, make it better. Others accept the lot they are given. And others still, run away with the carnival and send affections home as often as possible. What makes you happy?
They left, or they're leaving, it depends on if we're talking in the physical sense or in the metaphorical sense of affections and where one leaves their heart. People always leave eventually. I should make a mental note to stop getting attached, but somehow I think I already have. But like I said, I think I need a new heart.
Cities beckon with their bright lights shining out possibilities. They're inviting, but they come with written precautions. Leave everyone behind. Forget who you are and become what you want. The indecisive have trouble moving forward, without taking a step back as well. You're four years old! But, you're always seventeen in your hometown. It's so mature of you, so much your decision to make. So....everything. And buttons.
the windows still aren't clouding with frost and initials, but my initial instinct is to count down to the next opportunity for a new realization of fulfillment.
How to write a recipe for unconditional contentment with the present? I'm working on it. I'm not such a grand cook, however, so it may just taste like the ordinary given a new perspective. With any luck, complaints will be few. Too bad I traded my luck for a little bit of soul. Don't give it up for real estate, especially not in someone's heart. Real estate is rarely real there. That's not supposed to be cynical, it's just hard to be real in a(n) (e)state like that. Rolling with laughter, but lacking the energy to shwo it. Headaches from oversleeping and overtiredness. I'm beginning to think they're one in the same. At least they have the same effect.
I've stopped thinking it's yellow. Or Red. Or green. I've made the decision to trudge on forward with my eyes closed, with an occasional sidewards glance at the sidewalk. I was begging you to fly this and now I'm going to stop begging and ask you nicely to let me go. The price of belonging to each other is too much. That's what she said, or at least what she meant. But like I said, everyone leaves.
I just whisper, quietly, slowly, with sincerity, "Be happy. Be healthy. And be loved."
And then I move on and go on adventures to find out what others declare of my future, fearing ever so slightly a possible bearer of bad news before that bridge has even been built. Just one more thing to be afraid of lately.
