(no subject)
a certain someone persuaded me to keep up with my writing, and, although, this is not really a blog, it's similar enough. i haven't used this thing in far too long anyway.
as usual, there's that reeking smell of cigarette from the porch, seeping through this old, creaky house, with a side of melancholy. my brother's somewhere wasting hours watching some game network, channel 43084 out of 304543058, being the perfect model child for some childhood obesity threat commercial, and my mother's out on the porch smoking, on the phone with someone, complaining about her shitty job, shitty house, shitty kids, shitty life...and i'm here, like an idiot, writing about it, because i have nothing better to do.
this past weekend was rather nostalgic, i got the chance to look upon a face i haven't seen in almost two years, since cym 2004. it was nice, a blur of overpriced abercrombie track jackets, starbucks frapuccinos, and being pulled aside into random aisles at target, stealing quick lockings of somehow familiar lips. then it was brunch on sunday with the "family," which was the same veneer, just on a riverfront this time, with scones and decent omelettes.
i dreamt of cym last night, the last day, saying goodbye to him. i definitely miss him. that day was like a rip off scene of casablanca, i had to go on stage for orchestra, he had to catch a plane. i never thought i'd have to say a quick goodbye, i'm never good with those. i need time, i need to part with someone, or someplace, in a slow, reluctant manner. i never get proper goodbyes, anyway, so it wasn't anything i shouldn't have expected, yet still, even for this, i was ill prepared. in my dream, i was standing off to the side, watching myself practically miss the orchestra performance, muttering "please, just...just stay...stay until after orchestra," emotions overflowing, vulnerable...but he had to catch his plane. i looked on from a distance, intently, as i saw myself go in for that last kiss, and then dragged onto the stage by one of the last straggling second violins. i called out, "no, it's ok, don't be sad, he'll be there after you're done, so...it's alright..."
magically, i woke up sunday morning feeling so relieved, expecting to be just outside of hosmer, with him waiting for me, and a proper departure to be had at my leisure...to my dismay, i was still on the floor in my dad's house, 7+ hours away from potsdam, an eternity from that moment i dreamt of. i just kind of sat there for a bit, the remnants of a day's old mascara streaming down my cheeks...you look like a fucking hooker.
so...got up, showered, thus upgrading my image from $0.05 to $0.06 crack whore, did shit, and here i am, at my mom's house, etc. etc.
i'm going to go to bed now, with the sincere hope that my dreams will be less reminiscent of a fucking lifetime movie. perhaps, i have emotions after all.