folded inside each raining cloud
they say that home is where the heart is
i guess i haven't found my home yet
Tonight was concert night. I was excited. I told Walter I could work at the studio til 4 if he could use me.
It was a fine work day. Actually pretty slack. I split the work with my manager and I and took the first half.
Before I left I offered to distro the paperwork. On my way home I began feeling it. The heavy hallow that sometimes sets in. The lack of connection. I wanted to talk someone. Not to talk myself but to listen. To hear someone. I wanted to feel that. To feel lucky enough to hear a voice and know they were saying words specifically for me to hear. Specifically for me. Selfishly.
There wasn't anyone I knew though. I have friends scattered through the states, across the oceans. For all of them there's a time difference and for all of them, as amazing as they are, I'm not as incredibly close to them as I once was.
There are those who I know would respond, and I know they'd say undeservedly kind things to me. I feel an uneasy conflicted feeling there. People who tell me I'm important to them. I struggle with the feeling that their actions do not feel to match that message. And I understand that life picks us up and carries us away sometimes. People grow and no one grows at exactly the same rate. And no one is always in the same places as us all the time. So we grow together and apart and drift and bond.
I hesitated before I called her. When she answered she thought I was a job calling. For some reason her professional phone answering felt like a warmth. It was unexpected. We hadn't spoken in almost a year. We spoke randomly without speaking specifically. The what-are-you-up-to etiquette ignored. We spoke philosophically. I spoke exactly what I was feeling. Then unspecifics paved path to specifics and we caught up. I appreciated it. It made me feel better about drifting and feeling less close to people I care about. Realising that there's a wonderful in getting to re-know a person.
When I spoke to her about what I'm doing and the expectations those around me hold, she told me, no, you should write.
It was something that the me that is right now in the places I am in right now needed to hear.
It wasn't just the words. It was the way she said it.
It was a hand out of the hole I felt I was in.
they say there's lining made of silver
folded inside each raining cloud
i guess i haven't found my home yet
Tonight was concert night. I was excited. I told Walter I could work at the studio til 4 if he could use me.
It was a fine work day. Actually pretty slack. I split the work with my manager and I and took the first half.
Before I left I offered to distro the paperwork. On my way home I began feeling it. The heavy hallow that sometimes sets in. The lack of connection. I wanted to talk someone. Not to talk myself but to listen. To hear someone. I wanted to feel that. To feel lucky enough to hear a voice and know they were saying words specifically for me to hear. Specifically for me. Selfishly.
There wasn't anyone I knew though. I have friends scattered through the states, across the oceans. For all of them there's a time difference and for all of them, as amazing as they are, I'm not as incredibly close to them as I once was.
There are those who I know would respond, and I know they'd say undeservedly kind things to me. I feel an uneasy conflicted feeling there. People who tell me I'm important to them. I struggle with the feeling that their actions do not feel to match that message. And I understand that life picks us up and carries us away sometimes. People grow and no one grows at exactly the same rate. And no one is always in the same places as us all the time. So we grow together and apart and drift and bond.
I hesitated before I called her. When she answered she thought I was a job calling. For some reason her professional phone answering felt like a warmth. It was unexpected. We hadn't spoken in almost a year. We spoke randomly without speaking specifically. The what-are-you-up-to etiquette ignored. We spoke philosophically. I spoke exactly what I was feeling. Then unspecifics paved path to specifics and we caught up. I appreciated it. It made me feel better about drifting and feeling less close to people I care about. Realising that there's a wonderful in getting to re-know a person.
When I spoke to her about what I'm doing and the expectations those around me hold, she told me, no, you should write.
It was something that the me that is right now in the places I am in right now needed to hear.
It wasn't just the words. It was the way she said it.
It was a hand out of the hole I felt I was in.
they say there's lining made of silver
folded inside each raining cloud