(no subject)
...tell where the smoke ends and my breath begins. It's lost somewhere, blurred in the chilly night air. Fair enough, at least I know it's out there.
I hope it's out there.
I need a girl. A cute one. Not sexy, not fun, just cute. Laugh without being stupid, look up with wide eyes and simply shine. Just a cute, sweet girl. Smart, too. Honest. Loving and lovable.
I need her.
Tightening my coat around me, I lean against the railing. It's too cold to be doing this. It's too soon to be mourning. But I may as well get it over with now.
Another slow drag. So slow I can hear the soft, burning crackle in the still winter.
Someone said I smoke properly. Calm, gentle, slow.
I didn't know you could do that.
I am a man of many wonders.
Ever think Superman gets depressed?
He has everything but the girl. Speed, strength, looks. Even the girl.
But he doesn't.
He isn't Superman and Clark Kent isn't his alter-ego. It's the other way around.
How does he feel knowing he has everything she wants except she doesn't want him? That he is her dream, but that he can't even get close.
I'd say he would be depressed.
Maybe he isn't as invulnerable as I thought.
Flicking the burning butt, I watch the red sparks explode on the blacktop, my own personal fireworks show. Conducted and created by myself, seen by only me.
I can't tell where my breath ends and where life begins.
I hope it's out there.