Middle of the Road Anxieties
I am crossing the street from Arlington to Beacon and I stop dead in my tracks. Right in the middle of the road. Shadows are hurtling towards me--what am I doing? What on earth am I doing?
Men and women step up to microphones unrehearsed and turn the crowds face up, their taut bodies to the side. Everyone is lightened and enlightened. I'm not. Yes, they're funny and pretty and charming. I could step up and deliver as well. I don't. I shy away and back down and hurtle myself into the standing position in the middle of a road at night in dark clothing.
I am Narcissus. No one else should bring joy to these young men and women! Only I should be able to bring the faintest tears of joy to their faces! They should be enraptured by me. But
I take myself so seriously.
Hahahah! I am WRITER! I speak to hearts and souls. I create words that jump off the page and kill you time and time again. Hahahha. I truly was born with a sense of humor.
I am large and I have flair. I am so meddlesome.
But here I am. Delicately perched between the white dash marks that indicate I truly am in the middle of the road. Who will read this? These words are thoughts; thoughts are not catered to publication.
I think I should move before I am crushed beneath four unsympathetic wheels.
-----
Two and a half years. I was a mere child. We have both changed so much, so how is there a constant? It makes no sense! But, to be fair, if it did, I would so strongly doubt its validity. Here I am, inked in shapes, Byron in hand. There is so much validity in sheer vanity it pours out of my veins, spilling itself on the curb like a dashboard Jesus handed over to Pontius Pilate. I love. It's what I have. Not from the start, not told from the end, mired in the middle. I love.
Men and women step up to microphones unrehearsed and turn the crowds face up, their taut bodies to the side. Everyone is lightened and enlightened. I'm not. Yes, they're funny and pretty and charming. I could step up and deliver as well. I don't. I shy away and back down and hurtle myself into the standing position in the middle of a road at night in dark clothing.
I am Narcissus. No one else should bring joy to these young men and women! Only I should be able to bring the faintest tears of joy to their faces! They should be enraptured by me. But
I take myself so seriously.
Hahahah! I am WRITER! I speak to hearts and souls. I create words that jump off the page and kill you time and time again. Hahahha. I truly was born with a sense of humor.
I am large and I have flair. I am so meddlesome.
But here I am. Delicately perched between the white dash marks that indicate I truly am in the middle of the road. Who will read this? These words are thoughts; thoughts are not catered to publication.
I think I should move before I am crushed beneath four unsympathetic wheels.
-----
Two and a half years. I was a mere child. We have both changed so much, so how is there a constant? It makes no sense! But, to be fair, if it did, I would so strongly doubt its validity. Here I am, inked in shapes, Byron in hand. There is so much validity in sheer vanity it pours out of my veins, spilling itself on the curb like a dashboard Jesus handed over to Pontius Pilate. I love. It's what I have. Not from the start, not told from the end, mired in the middle. I love.