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.
28. 42.
Numbers
without a roof.
The dark
room of the soul.
In the
palace of minds.
Happy
place.
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
On Tuesdays
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 knows
She is
loved
As another one
Proclaims
Love and
support
From all
around
The
midnight oil
Lit again
Without concern
For the
future
The past is
the
Past
And she
knows
Happiness.
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.