losing it
You remember high school? You know - five minutes to get to the next class, only to kick back and have someone talk to you for 50 minutes... people talking to you who in some part of their heart believe in the possibilities of you... and you, in your naive sweetness, you believe it too... and you don't even know it... you think about possibilities, you think the world is whole and exciting and intrinsically beautiful. You believe that your best friends will always be your best friends, that college will be a better place, that jobs will fall like ripe cherries in mid-summer... you take college prep classes because it's what you're supposed to do and you giggle at other oddities that walk the halls, the fat kids, the cheerleaders, the bandies, the yearbook staff, the soccer guy not to be confused with the illustrious footballers... and in your little microcosm you think your tomorrows will be bright and hold your breath so tight that your are faint with the dreams of turning 18.
then it's gone... like the sun sliding into the horizon in Spain... it's gone and you forgot to snap a picture to remember it all. You forgot your fucking postcard. And then you are in places here and there... somewhere thinking that your 20's will be an epiphany and that you will know 'it'. You'll find your perfect shell that fits your soft shell body, you'll make a home, then upgrade and have friends and have more friends, then up grade on those too...
and someone between the spaces between, you'll find fragments of that postcard you'd never put much stock in... and those fragments will spark something deep in you, something old and sweet and dark and deep in you... and then you remember science class... you remember... lunch rooms with only one seat left... and home rooms, and slumber parties, and kissing pillows and giggling at scary movies... and then you realize that the world needs more moments like this... and that it's a possibility... that the world is exciting and intrinsically beautiful... when you don't upgrade... when you side into a pair of old flip flops and smile at the way they rub your heels just right... and then call a friend... one who is there for the deep shit... the pimples and firings alike... and laugh... about the farside calendar entry for today...
then it's gone... like the sun sliding into the horizon in Spain... it's gone and you forgot to snap a picture to remember it all. You forgot your fucking postcard. And then you are in places here and there... somewhere thinking that your 20's will be an epiphany and that you will know 'it'. You'll find your perfect shell that fits your soft shell body, you'll make a home, then upgrade and have friends and have more friends, then up grade on those too...
and someone between the spaces between, you'll find fragments of that postcard you'd never put much stock in... and those fragments will spark something deep in you, something old and sweet and dark and deep in you... and then you remember science class... you remember... lunch rooms with only one seat left... and home rooms, and slumber parties, and kissing pillows and giggling at scary movies... and then you realize that the world needs more moments like this... and that it's a possibility... that the world is exciting and intrinsically beautiful... when you don't upgrade... when you side into a pair of old flip flops and smile at the way they rub your heels just right... and then call a friend... one who is there for the deep shit... the pimples and firings alike... and laugh... about the farside calendar entry for today...