Could Be Better, Could Be Worse
Seeing friends wave across a vast distance. We're as close as can be, standing on opposite sides of a canyon.
Gearing-up to jump through hoops, read-this-read-that, bite my own ass, and enjoy every minute of it.
Living on meager means and free time; learning to communicate more with more people.
Whining. Quietly. You can see it behind the stoic mask that is my washed-out face.
Wanting life to mean something. Wanting to mean something to you. Anything.
Hearing the silence slice through the noise and confusion and laughter.
Hear me hear me hear me hear me hear me hear me hear me hear.
Standing still as the hoard, the river surges forward, surges back.
Desperately wanting something amazing to happen already.
Choking back the drowning, annoying froth of paranoia.
Pretending none of it really matters in the end.
Wanting you to kiss my hair and say "hush."
Wondering what we're thinking.
Wondering what you're doing.
Wondering what I'm doing.
Feeling just like my car.
The female Quasimodo.
Ignore all this, please.
Like a total wreck.
Craving warmth.
Feeling alone.
A brace face.
A lone rabbit.
Dive right in!
Shrugging.
Hesitating.
Surviving.
Smiling.
I am.