So, there I was. Big city. Alone. Spent some time in the shower, missing my shampoo and backrub. After staying inside to unwind, I decided to go out. Or, the fantasy I kept playing in my mind made me seize the day. Tomorrow was going to be different. Today I was going to walk the streets I couldn’t recall the names of. It would be summer. And I’d not walk the streets with forgotten names alone. Having walked in the opposite direction of my walking dream I found the new place where I would be spending the evening along with one of the two communities I went to experience once again. Following that, I ordered a haircut at the usual place. The hairdresser was just as bad as I to pick a time and day for it. It’s always charming meeting other un-decisive.
Waking up still within my delightful fantasy, I thought at the day before, the day I was going to have today and the day in the future.
Numbers without a roof.
The dark room of the soul.
In the palace of minds.
Go to your happy place.
Title: The inability to read.
Title: the girl in the shadows.
The girl sat in the chair. She had a block of paper in her lap. In her hand was a pen. Next to the girl, there was a small table. On the other, side a lamp. A cell phone, lying on the table surface, played music. The girl touched her hair. Freshly cut. The girl had been to a hairdresser the very same day. The cell phone kept on playing music. The girl waited.
She sat in the chair, waiting. Waiting for what, you may ask. I don’t think she even knew herself. But she waited. Patiently.
There was a knock on the door. She didn’t open. She knew who was outside. And she wasn’t ready to face the past just yet. Nor the music, for that matter.
The cell phone played on. The girl kept on waiting.
She is loved.
She is, indeed, loved.
Indeed she is. Loved.
Much like the recipe for food
We look inside
What does not exists
Why do people have to be so very acceptable and understanding
Everything is made to be broken
Nothing lasts forever
The trick is to enjoy it
While you can
She is loved
As another one
Love and support
From all around
The midnight oil
For the future
The past is the
And she knows
Because sometimes it comes in the form of pies. Sometimes it’s the early midmorning phone call. Sometimes it’s arriving before your coffee shop meeting. It’s all these things and more. And yet it always comes back to two people. One of them is mentioned. And one of them is not. One of them is an open secret. The other one is an actual secret. My secret. My own, little secret.
At some point I’ll have to go public. Right now I’m not quite there yet. But I’m getting there. In my own way. At my own speed. Naturally.
The girl though of many things and nothing. She thought on what she was doing. She thought on what she wasn’t doing. Darling Clementine. Buried alive.
In the darkness, you can hide.
In the darkness, there is light.
In the darkness, you can be clumsy without trying to cover it up.
My mind wanders. It’s been difficult to focus. I blame my feelings. Though, her description was all to accurate. I keep coming back to her. Not that I mind that much. I just hope it’s not TOO much.
My coffee shop date (not that kind of date) that I for the love of me cannot recall the call sign of (but that’s all right) and I spent six hours talking, sharing and in general having an excellent time together.
Party was nice. Just don’t like parties as much as I used to.
I’m getting old.
The return trip was dreadful. That’s basically my own fault, though: spending far too much time focusing on the one really bad thing that happened in an otherwise good and satisfying visit. Sometimes the human psyche isn’t worthy of deeper study. Sometimes emotions are hard enough.