(no subject)
Jade,
There is nothing simple in the telling of a tale; there is only this, a quest, a problem, and a solution. Ask yourself. What is the quest and who are its players? What is the problem and what is the angle? What is the solution and what is to gain in the end? Is it peace? Is it happiness? Is it love, a moment of bliss? That is to the reader to find the answer to this story. The written is simply this, a tale of many splendid thing from the heart and mind of me.
If I were to write about my day, it would go something like this.
I returned to my small room sometime around 1 am. Stoned out of my mind. I think of the bong, strapped safely in my backseat like a small child. Too late to turn around now and see its safe passage inside to my tiny closet. No, its far too cold and I am too stonded to care, that it would be best to bring it in under the cover of darkness. So, I wander to my newly appointed bedspace. Its much to small to be called a room at all. Entering, I close the door and turn out the lights. I sit and reach for my zune, flipping through its archive to find something soothing.
What do I find soothing? Its always changing, usually its Tool, Mars Volta or Telepopmusik, anything intensely intriguing. Tonight its A Perfect Circle, this is no surprise. As myself finds that inner calm I lay back and let my mind start to wander. I think of many things, my day, the people I saw, the situations I somehow find myself in. Soon enough I feel the urge. Its always burning inside, seeking release of its prison. So I let it out. I pick up a pen and write.
Sometimes its stories, or letters or something I wish to say to someone, other times only thoughts; that's how I let it out. Writing all the jumbled thoughts down, getting them out before I burst.
This is what I tell.
I realized something this evening, this single thought brought realization crashing down. He would be leaving, moving away, I don't know how I didn't see it before. All the conversations I found myself hanging on each of his words. In all the time I didn't spend with her. Her, Heather, the one who's words came crashing down on me like a wave. Cold water sending a shock of reality my way. Her one sentence showed it all to me.
Was she trying to tell me in a subtle way to spare me the harsh sudden realization that one day I would come to find that they were gone. That he would be gone. Then something else came to mind, a fleeting thought born only in vain hope. Did he want me to be left behind? Did I want to be left behind? The answer to both questions was in truth, no. No he didn't want me to go and no I didn't want to be left behind. To allow wild fantasy about following him would only bring false hope. To allow myself to be optimistic was not a possibility. Too much pain involved with hopeless optimism on fruitless matters.
Wild hope makes me dream that he would want me to go, to stay by his side. If I were there so impossible to get away from, so far embedded in his reality that he would find himself wishing I was there in those times of brief absences. It is working on some level, I am spending time with his friends, sharing and giving, worming my way in to what I want. Perseverance is my tricky tool. I am confused by him, he pushes and pulls me in so many directions. He is trying to make it hard for me to navigate the path that we are on. Trying to make it difficult for me to gain control, but his control is brittle, weak at its foundations.
He turns to me and says "Clever got me this far, then tricky got me in." meaning he thinks he has me locked in his game. Sometimes I feel as if he is merely toying with me, and others I feel as if he is merely hiding behind a secret. A secret that he wishes were not true. So I play back. I will not go, I will stay and fight for what I wish to obtain.
I look back and reply, "I am what I am after." I think to myself, 'I don't need another friend'. Then I am greeted with the long awaited embrace,a smile, a dance of touch and feel. The arrival of a moment where I feel at home.
I'll tell you this, no eternal reward can save us now for wasting the dawn.
There is nothing simple in the telling of a tale; there is only this, a quest, a problem, and a solution. Ask yourself. What is the quest and who are its players? What is the problem and what is the angle? What is the solution and what is to gain in the end? Is it peace? Is it happiness? Is it love, a moment of bliss? That is to the reader to find the answer to this story. The written is simply this, a tale of many splendid thing from the heart and mind of me.
If I were to write about my day, it would go something like this.
I returned to my small room sometime around 1 am. Stoned out of my mind. I think of the bong, strapped safely in my backseat like a small child. Too late to turn around now and see its safe passage inside to my tiny closet. No, its far too cold and I am too stonded to care, that it would be best to bring it in under the cover of darkness. So, I wander to my newly appointed bedspace. Its much to small to be called a room at all. Entering, I close the door and turn out the lights. I sit and reach for my zune, flipping through its archive to find something soothing.
What do I find soothing? Its always changing, usually its Tool, Mars Volta or Telepopmusik, anything intensely intriguing. Tonight its A Perfect Circle, this is no surprise. As myself finds that inner calm I lay back and let my mind start to wander. I think of many things, my day, the people I saw, the situations I somehow find myself in. Soon enough I feel the urge. Its always burning inside, seeking release of its prison. So I let it out. I pick up a pen and write.
Sometimes its stories, or letters or something I wish to say to someone, other times only thoughts; that's how I let it out. Writing all the jumbled thoughts down, getting them out before I burst.
This is what I tell.
I realized something this evening, this single thought brought realization crashing down. He would be leaving, moving away, I don't know how I didn't see it before. All the conversations I found myself hanging on each of his words. In all the time I didn't spend with her. Her, Heather, the one who's words came crashing down on me like a wave. Cold water sending a shock of reality my way. Her one sentence showed it all to me.
Was she trying to tell me in a subtle way to spare me the harsh sudden realization that one day I would come to find that they were gone. That he would be gone. Then something else came to mind, a fleeting thought born only in vain hope. Did he want me to be left behind? Did I want to be left behind? The answer to both questions was in truth, no. No he didn't want me to go and no I didn't want to be left behind. To allow wild fantasy about following him would only bring false hope. To allow myself to be optimistic was not a possibility. Too much pain involved with hopeless optimism on fruitless matters.
Wild hope makes me dream that he would want me to go, to stay by his side. If I were there so impossible to get away from, so far embedded in his reality that he would find himself wishing I was there in those times of brief absences. It is working on some level, I am spending time with his friends, sharing and giving, worming my way in to what I want. Perseverance is my tricky tool. I am confused by him, he pushes and pulls me in so many directions. He is trying to make it hard for me to navigate the path that we are on. Trying to make it difficult for me to gain control, but his control is brittle, weak at its foundations.
He turns to me and says "Clever got me this far, then tricky got me in." meaning he thinks he has me locked in his game. Sometimes I feel as if he is merely toying with me, and others I feel as if he is merely hiding behind a secret. A secret that he wishes were not true. So I play back. I will not go, I will stay and fight for what I wish to obtain.
I look back and reply, "I am what I am after." I think to myself, 'I don't need another friend'. Then I am greeted with the long awaited embrace,a smile, a dance of touch and feel. The arrival of a moment where I feel at home.
I'll tell you this, no eternal reward can save us now for wasting the dawn.