Old Factory Senses

Four kinds of people stood in one place, all waiting for the same thing: movement.

The first group was a couple standing together publicly displaying their affection for one another. The effect of the affection was well rehearsed and played out as usual. The man reminisced on his heyday as a basketball star trying to impress his lady without any real need to.

The second was a freshly new couple. They were still getting to know each other but made no delay in displaying their own affection for one another.

The third type was a homeless man sitting on a bench. He was broken, cold, and alone. He overheard the conversations and his own past played through his head and he remembered what it was like to be hopeful and to feel and to move. Occasionally he would stand up and mutter something incomprehensible with no purpose or intent.

As time passed, the older (but not yet old) couple decided that their time would be better spent walking. Their prime had passed and they had no time to tarry waiting for a trolley. The old man gave up as well. He decided he had wasted enough of his life in waiting, and what the hell was the point anyway? He had nowhere to go.

The young couple stayed and waited it out. They had all the time in the world. They had all the hope in the world. And the world was beautiful.

The fourth party was me. I stood and I watched and I saw the naiveté of the young couple. I saw the motionlessness and restlessness of the lovers. I saw the broken spirit of the old man. I saw the progression of the whole world and an entire life in ten minutes and five people.

What Are We Made Of?

The month of October has produced fewer blog posts than August and September. I suppose that's a side effect of a healing heart. Bittersweet normalcy is returning and the numbness is being replaced with the realization that I'm still here and still have things to do.

I think I forgot how to fall in love, but I still remember jealousy. My eyes emanate green as I watch men succeed at things I choose to fail at. I was making forward progress. I shouldn't have looked back. I want a new focus. I'm sick to death of these memories of you haunting my sleep.

I want to fall and not break.

Teenage Tragedies

"It is my birthday. It is a new year.

I should be happy that I am still here."

My birthday has just ended and I'm feeling old. I feel as though I passed my prime long ago but I'm moving too fast to turn around and look for it.

A year ago I was in such a similar looking boat. The waves of a heartbreak finally settling around me and my head finally turning to face the direction of my movement. I could look around and look ahead for the first time in so long. And here I am with my heart once again sunk to the bottom of the sea but again with the face fading in the horizon and my head rotating. Just keep sailing on. Despite desire, the winds will not allow us to reverse direction.

So what have I learned in my first year of adulthood? Not much. I fall for the same traps.

I've been thinking about this system and I struggle to justify the way I break my back for these grades so I can get a job and raise a family. And why do I kill myself over girls and friends and doing these things that I'm expected to do? I just want to give it all up and become a vagabond, but then I just wouldn't fit in this world. (Ranting may be poor writing, but it makes me feel good.)

"And in no time we'll be spread across the earth, donning business suits to show the faceless master what we're worth."

Growing up is scary. Adulthood is boring. Teenage life is painful. Childhood was transient.

Good birthday. Good friends. Life ain't bad. Just tough sometimes. Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I hate you. Sometimes I wish it had all gone differently. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to grow up. Sometimes I wish moments could last forever.

"So I walk myself picking at a chip on my shoulder.

I'm another day late and one year older.
It's failure by design."

Bow Ties and Arrows

"Well it's getting colder and you're getting distant

And I just keep thinking that I never meant it to be like this"

The pain fades with time, but you still creep up my spine and fill my mind. I hear words, not voices. The repercussions you brought have left my head spinning and my neck in a terrible pain. I remember exactly what you said but never knew why you said it. I'm such a "nice boy". You were so damn cute that night. And the whites in your lies matched the whites in your eyes.

My weakness is strong. It is stronger than this medicine. Laughter is the strongest thing I could find, but I think I need some narcotics. Time is too slow for me. Damn the irony.

"What a bunch of fools we lovers are."

I wanted a bountiful harvest, but you just wanted a taste of forbidden fruit. You fiend. You're fading away and I know that's exactly what I need but exactly what I lament. My head tells my arm to raise in a final goodbye but can't stop my heart from extending my hand in a futile attempt to hold on to you. How pathetic.

"Maybe I fell to fast

Maybe I pushed you away

Now you're gone and I'm afraid

That you're never coming back this way again"

I swear I'm enjoying myself... I just have a chronically broken heart.

Making Mountains

It's scary when your home becomes a dangerous place. Can't take two steps without being attacked by the ghosts of past experiences or memories that bring it all back. The pain in my chest grew and I felt the scars that remain on my heart.

"I want to talk to you so bad."

It was full of things I wished to forget and emptied of the things I longed to see.

But it was home and it felt good to see it. It felt good to see how I've grown and moved and I know that place can't hold me down. I could see us lying on that hill under the stars with no idea what was coming. But I also saw myself walk away and not look back. I saw myself moving.

"And I go crawling back to the city I love cause it's already taken everything."