on vacation and reunited with pencils and paper, i began writing again in every location possible.
my pull to the computer has dwindled and i am finding it hard to even begin to express the things i have been feeling the past couple weeks. I can however, retype them.
"Inhibition seems to be lost with childhood, then gradually regained with age. Shame it's not a quality that sticks...
My expectations were low, but the minor dances have reinstated points of my faith in society. Dance on, please. Dance on."
My expectations were low, but the minor dances have reinstated points of my faith in society. Dance on, please. Dance on."
"Why am I so nervous?
... because you look at her the way i wish you looked at me and i just don't get it."
... because you look at her the way i wish you looked at me and i just don't get it."
Our long long talk. Ohhh, our wires were buzzing. There have only been a few of these great, deep talks, but when they occur you have no idea how wonderful they make me feel. My insides soar about the prolonged exchange of words. Even if they do not happen as often as they could, knowing these conversations are bubbling inside us and could break into a rolling boil at any time excites me. We have everything I have ever wanted, and a few points more I would have never succeeded in imagining. This night was my favorite. Yes, it could have happened anywhere, but it didn't. It happened when i was feeling weak and vulnerable. We had this conversation at the perfect moment. The level we do not usually connect on, sparked and ignited and made a warm glowing fire inside me that flickered all night.
"I am 17. Seventeen: I've only just passed through the shallow end of my life's pool, but I'm already drowning. As I'm breaking surface and gasping for one, miniscule wisp of oxygen to satisfy my lungs, the h2o pervades. It spreads through the outside of my repiratory system, slinking by the mucus in my lung cavity as if it were oil. The extra weight creates a pressure worse than driving through the mountains or the force of a boulder on a broken legs. Such. Huge. Pains.
When you are younger, everything seems magnificently LARGE. From those giant Sunday brunch waffles to the firetrucks downtown, straight up to the skyscrapers you ventured upon in New York City with your Father a month before terrorists hijacked planes to fly off course and crash straight into their towering beauty. As you grow older, these things sometimes change; you begin to want more. "More waffles pleeeaasee!" you would say to your mother on Sunday. "More fire and excitement!" you would cry at the idle firetruck in which your interest has faded. As far as those towers went, my god they were massive, but other gods wanted them down. It is amazing how simultaneuosly you grow and everything else around you shrinks. the roads, the love, the awareness.
The passion and inspiration were always your tallest towers, but they too have been exterminated. Some of these things that hover, then shrink change you, like a piece of melting plastic. You warp into the appropriate shape, depending on the lick of the flames. You would think your life's pool would put these out, but not only is the water in your lungs, it's in the fire. As aspects of life begin to change, and (presumably) inevitably shrink, your pool grows. Your life gets deeper, wider (or maybe even more narrow) and the calm of the water turns off.
The whirlpool struggle begins.
You turn 12 and realize our blood is glowing into the the water. You turn 15.5 andthe pool widens vertically. You turn 16 and try a few backstrokes. When 17 hits you, you realize you are in the fucking ocean.
Suuuuuure, I have a life raft and the most beautiful hands I've ever held there to pull me out, but I realized I have been making a terrible mistake. As the pressure increased I franticly swam for the surface, i swear i was so close, then somehow my head hit coral and sand then broke into two pieces, rather than breaking the surface. I KEEP SWIMMING DOWN.
I suppose at this point, coral-rock bottom, you only have so many choices.
1. Give up.
2. Die.
3. Swallow, quick. Breathe in.
4.Run?
5.Jump, push, cry, fret.
6.Swim.
Aside from these responses, I have chosen another. I will not indulge in death. There goes 1,2,3. I cannot run away from this water. I won't fret any longer. I could swim, but my effort is lost. I would rather
When you are younger, everything seems magnificently LARGE. From those giant Sunday brunch waffles to the firetrucks downtown, straight up to the skyscrapers you ventured upon in New York City with your Father a month before terrorists hijacked planes to fly off course and crash straight into their towering beauty. As you grow older, these things sometimes change; you begin to want more. "More waffles pleeeaasee!" you would say to your mother on Sunday. "More fire and excitement!" you would cry at the idle firetruck in which your interest has faded. As far as those towers went, my god they were massive, but other gods wanted them down. It is amazing how simultaneuosly you grow and everything else around you shrinks. the roads, the love, the awareness.
The passion and inspiration were always your tallest towers, but they too have been exterminated. Some of these things that hover, then shrink change you, like a piece of melting plastic. You warp into the appropriate shape, depending on the lick of the flames. You would think your life's pool would put these out, but not only is the water in your lungs, it's in the fire. As aspects of life begin to change, and (presumably) inevitably shrink, your pool grows. Your life gets deeper, wider (or maybe even more narrow) and the calm of the water turns off.
The whirlpool struggle begins.
You turn 12 and realize our blood is glowing into the the water. You turn 15.5 andthe pool widens vertically. You turn 16 and try a few backstrokes. When 17 hits you, you realize you are in the fucking ocean.
Suuuuuure, I have a life raft and the most beautiful hands I've ever held there to pull me out, but I realized I have been making a terrible mistake. As the pressure increased I franticly swam for the surface, i swear i was so close, then somehow my head hit coral and sand then broke into two pieces, rather than breaking the surface. I KEEP SWIMMING DOWN.
I suppose at this point, coral-rock bottom, you only have so many choices.
1. Give up.
2. Die.
3. Swallow, quick. Breathe in.
4.Run?
5.Jump, push, cry, fret.
6.Swim.
Aside from these responses, I have chosen another. I will not indulge in death. There goes 1,2,3. I cannot run away from this water. I won't fret any longer. I could swim, but my effort is lost. I would rather
Float Out of my ocean.
leaving my double life and split head behind me."
"I will not resist anymore. It is time to harness my ideas and put them to work, my work. Though, my hands do not captivate the beauty of my mind, so intrinsic."
As for the current, how am I doing? How am I personally holding up? I dunno. The break with the band is serving well. That spilt in my head has severed off and the other side is starting to patch itself, like and earth worm of sorts. What happens when the break is over though? I do not think i will ever be ready for it to end, the break or the band.
Wishing my words would collide.
and reminding myself to be careful what i wish for.
Oh forget it. Offff to the zoooo tomorrow!
As for the current, how am I doing? How am I personally holding up? I dunno. The break with the band is serving well. That spilt in my head has severed off and the other side is starting to patch itself, like and earth worm of sorts. What happens when the break is over though? I do not think i will ever be ready for it to end, the break or the band.
Wishing my words would collide.
and reminding myself to be careful what i wish for.
Oh forget it. Offff to the zoooo tomorrow!
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