All the things I used to left out to be found; I still wonder now just how many times my intentions were noticed. Shaking just a little, I tried my hardest to draw out some lines - in the shape of a map, so you'd know where to turn on your way home. It's always easier to get lost when you're where you've never been before. Or where you'd never driven from at night, with the orange-frost glare from cheaper streetlights on the blacktop that hadn't been repaved in years. Pale-gray is the color you'll be driving on.
Pale gray were the boots I left out for you. I knew you wouldn't think about them, at first. Until the color of the faux-swede ripples in the florescent lights the same way they had before, with my ankles gently crossed and leaning back unto the floor beneath, more than a hundred years old. Had the wood spoken, I know how many unfinished stories it would have told.
So many things I lost so you could find me. And nothing ever came to show of it, aside the moments you'd remind me with the same nervousness and coy questions which stapled us before. It was never really a chore.
10.22.2011
10.05.2011
10.04.2011
I'm laying on the beige carpet; the same beige carpet that used to be white. Sort of, at least. The kind of gentle off-white I like to associate with the memories of younger childhood, and the carpet of the house my family lived in. I can only remember through small holes in the focus of old photos I've found, lying around without being framed or featured.
I'm laying on the carpet to try and remember why the hell I let what's eating at me eat at me without crawling out of my skin. If I could roll away from it, I'd push the gearshift in the neutral position and avoid the capitol 'r' as well I'm able. Of everything I've ever truly needed, I am truly... purely scared of knowing more than anyone should have to. And no one should have to understand this mortality as well as I have learned - - learned the hard way. The hard way feels soft when it's kissing your eyes, telling you not to cry, with it's fingers entangled with yours and yours alone. And I'm alone.
Laying on the beige carpet, without having moved a bit. But my mind will work for miles a minute, but I won't want to talk about it. In my dreams, I see this character I decided I'd hated in the third of fourth chapter of the metaphorical story fictionally written to describe this point; but he doesn't see me. He doesn't talk to me. His mouth won't move for me, I won't move for him. He's avoiding me. I'm avoiding him, and still wondering... without ever really having the chance to know if he wondered about me, and if I were wondering.
I'd always assumed that dream sequences were for heartfelt conversations, I never had a history of having made accurate assumptions. But positive apologies, when I am deeply sorry. It's not usually, no.
I'm laying on the carpet to try and remember why the hell I let what's eating at me eat at me without crawling out of my skin. If I could roll away from it, I'd push the gearshift in the neutral position and avoid the capitol 'r' as well I'm able. Of everything I've ever truly needed, I am truly... purely scared of knowing more than anyone should have to. And no one should have to understand this mortality as well as I have learned - - learned the hard way. The hard way feels soft when it's kissing your eyes, telling you not to cry, with it's fingers entangled with yours and yours alone. And I'm alone.
Laying on the beige carpet, without having moved a bit. But my mind will work for miles a minute, but I won't want to talk about it. In my dreams, I see this character I decided I'd hated in the third of fourth chapter of the metaphorical story fictionally written to describe this point; but he doesn't see me. He doesn't talk to me. His mouth won't move for me, I won't move for him. He's avoiding me. I'm avoiding him, and still wondering... without ever really having the chance to know if he wondered about me, and if I were wondering.
I'd always assumed that dream sequences were for heartfelt conversations, I never had a history of having made accurate assumptions. But positive apologies, when I am deeply sorry. It's not usually, no.
10.03.2011
I wish I had a reminder that wasn't the lack of a reminder.
And when I dwell on it, I can hear the guilt dripping from the shower-head, hard-water stained metal - slowly gathering to a pool of stagnant water. When I wake up - if I wake up again, I'll turn the shower on again. And washing it all away again. And i'm far too proud of myself to ever admit that I didn't really wish it had all gathered this way. I used to hear phrases meant to enlighten and reinforce; and now they're meaningless hope is almost all I have to use to cope with the reality I can't understand.
I'll open a fortune cookie just because I know it will say something positive. Whether or not it's true won't matter, because it will seem to apply. Somehow it will all feel the same if I'm able to contain the curiosity, just a matter of dreams that make me bead with sweat and wake up angry and just a little confused, though I'll quickly forget it. Luckily I seem to wash this sheen away, and a part of myself nestled into what I don't want to wonder... And I can't remember enough to wonder, really, anyway.
And when I dwell on it, I can hear the guilt dripping from the shower-head, hard-water stained metal - slowly gathering to a pool of stagnant water. When I wake up - if I wake up again, I'll turn the shower on again. And washing it all away again. And i'm far too proud of myself to ever admit that I didn't really wish it had all gathered this way. I used to hear phrases meant to enlighten and reinforce; and now they're meaningless hope is almost all I have to use to cope with the reality I can't understand.
I'll open a fortune cookie just because I know it will say something positive. Whether or not it's true won't matter, because it will seem to apply. Somehow it will all feel the same if I'm able to contain the curiosity, just a matter of dreams that make me bead with sweat and wake up angry and just a little confused, though I'll quickly forget it. Luckily I seem to wash this sheen away, and a part of myself nestled into what I don't want to wonder... And I can't remember enough to wonder, really, anyway.
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