Hijacked Confessions

Jun 30, 2008 10:44

I am stuck on a lift in the belly of a whale.

It’s not about over coming obstacles or proving to everyone that you’re ready for some destiny. It’s about healing, healing wounds from eighteen months, or maybe twenty three years instead. They’re probably one and the same to trained eyes. Closing the gap, mind the gap.

My mind drifts everyday from ocean to ocean, never finding warm enough waters. It takes a quick dip, clothes on, but finds too many disagreeable fishes. And so moves forward until the whole thing comes full circle and I’m stuck with piranhas instead of goldfish.

But it’s okay. Is it possible to move on, to be okay, to be whole, to be healed, to be, well, normal? Of course. Am I going to just yet? Of course not. Hell no. I’d love to be, I’d love to be able to reach out my hand. Feel. That stuff, that sentimental bullshit that everyone seems so fond. I’d never admit it because, well, since when have I ever sold out? I can hear some of you saying “You were born a sell out.” And maybe that’s true. Or maybe you’re just an asshole, drifting from ocean to ocean.

I think I need my own June on the west coast.
Previous post Next post
Up