off to dreamland

There’s this girl who sits in front of the Broadway skytrain station. Her hair was dyed blue-green but is fading as her natural dark roots are growing in. She’s young, can’t be any older than nineteen, her face reads of misery. Today, she walked up to me, making sure she didn’t stand too close and asked me for a smoke. Her voice was quiet and muffled by the busy traffic, it was raining, her hood was up and her cardboard sign had started to deteriorate because of the drench. I wanted to give her all of my cigarettes, but I knew somehow that it wouldn’t help her situation. I wonder about her, how could a girl so young not have a place to go? Where are her friends, her family? She could live in a shelter, seek a counselor, she’s young and life will still offer her a chance. But she doesn’t see that, she hasn’t lived long enough.

I’m going to have to make a pretty big decision in the upcoming week. It just all seems so sudden, but it’s what I wanted, or what I thought I wanted. I don’t know anymore, but we’ll just have to play it out and see how it goes. What else can you do?

reverie

arduous

delirium 

innocuous

convalescence 

taciturn 

abyss

fervor 

crushed

in the wind of tomorrow

I’ll tell you my tale of sorrow

He was a man of golden beauty

with eyes the colour of pine

He slept with arms perched above me

and tickled my toes below

In his heart I saw desire

But in his mind he was a liar

Fallen in desultory manner

He never rose again

He controls my emotions, I’ve lost a part of myself because it belongs to him. But I am nothing to him, nothing like he is to me. I am not in his mind until the moment he sees me and today that was only fleeting. I wish so very deeply that I could get this man out of my mind, out of my heart, I want to move on and I want to own every piece of me. But I can’t, he controls me like a drug. I used to be so happy because of him but now that I don’t see him as often anymore that high is diminishing, leaving me nothing but doubt. I want to be loved, but I want to love someone that loves me even more. He does not love me, I am no one but someone he will forget when time moves on.

I’ve never had this problem with men before, they were always the ones who fell for me. I think what upsets me the most is the fact that I won’t be able to get over him. When he stops going to the same college, what will happen? How do you move on from someone you know yet don’t really know at the same time? Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve always been told when a man likes you, he’ll do anything to see you, talk to you, call you. None of this has happened, so I can safely presume my initial intuition has failed me. What I thought was him liking me was all an illusion; I wanted it so badly that I became deluded.Sometimes it’s easier to say this than to admit that not all men act the same way.

I don’t want to know anymore. I don’t want to keep guessing or hoping that maybe, just maybe he’ll call me. I’m tired of it and I don’t deserve it. But most of all, I don’t want to risk falling again into that dark place where emptiness and despair corrupts the air. I can’t keep doing these things that hurt me, not just for the sole reason that they hurt, but because I know I’ve had enough of the lowest lows and cannot for the life of me fall back into depression.

I’ve had too much and I’m so very tired of crying.

That dreadful space in between: waiting. I dislike waiting of any sort, whether it be for an answer, or waiting for the time to pass to go to school or work, or to meet up with a friend. The time is always silent, it always bores me, it always reminds me why life is better drunk. I can’t stand the thoughts which run through my mind whenever I wait for someone, and that feeling like you haven’t spoken in so long that you feel almost jittery. The boredom that comes from waiting is something I hate. I think that’s why I smoke, because at least I have something to do whilst sauntering in that empty space in between. It gives me something to do, the restlessness from waiting is the most tedious pain. 

Life is too short. Though I have always known this, I have been hit by this thought tonight and I suddenly realize there can’t be any more holding back. No more resisting, I need to dive into the waves of my life and even if I end up crashing, at least I would have experienced the beauty of seeing the world through a way that defies the ordinary. Give me a few ripples over the winter’s breeze anyday.

 I love my friend, Marija. I haven’t seen her in ages, but we’ve kept in touch through email. When she lived here, we were always able to talk about everything and anything. Not like it is with my other girlfriends, but we were more like brothers, really. We pranced around downtown in our own little world, detached and unaware of our surroundings, of others. Music, films, literature, philosophy dominated our conversations, but it was the way that we could talk about them. We never argued or got pent up over things, but even then our arguments were fun and funny. There was a connection between us, a connection where there were no expectations, no pressure, no holding back. She was a friend who I could just easily be myself around; we didn’t always have to talk, we could say the most silly things that other people just wouldn’t understand. I know I’ve changed since then and I’m sure she’s changed as well, but through our emails I can tell we can pick it up right where we left off. She’s in London now and I need to visit her so we can catch up, rant and laugh about our lives. I miss her.

Once I thought I saw you
in a crowded hazy bar,
Dancing on the light
from star to star.
Far across the moonbeam
I know that’s who you are,
I saw your brown eyes
turning once to fire.

You are like a hurricane
There’s calm in your eyes.
And I’m gettin’ blown away
To somewhere safer
where the feeling stays.
I want to love you but
I’m getting blown away.

I am just a dreamer,
but you are just a dream,
You could have been
anyone to me.
Before that moment

you touched my lips

That perfect feeling
when time just slips
Away between us
on our foggy trip.

- Neil Young