From the suspended fluff
s of cotton vapor trail
s illuminated by the incandescent
sunset to the vivid memories of the days long past, my life is one big story of us
. The sweatpants, the boot
s, the memories of that time at that place that that thing happened, and that thing you never told me and I'll probably never know
-- these thoughts follow me like a pet dinosaur
. And while I'm certain that I'm the only one feeling the way, while I'm positive that I'm the only one who believe
s the future
is no place to put my happier days; there are the glimmer
s of hope from the sporadic glimpses into the life that seems so far away, separated by only one hour -- but in an alternate universe of yesterday.
We are dynamic creatures that are being shaped and carved day by day. With each passing moment we discover the new, improve upon the old, and rediscover the forgotten. The life that made me while you were the pivotal equation in my matrix of reality hasn't really been factored out of my realm of perception -- a filter that allows me to remember everything about you through your absence. There's nothing that I can't somehow link to when we were an us. I'm not bitter, but I am lonely.
something has gone terribly wrong.
can you fix it?
Shut up and drive -- drive.
And still I dream. I watch the sandy beaches of the places that I might some day be -- dream of being a beach bum engineer. House on the beach, car in the garage, happy for happiness' sake.
The beach is my last known place of happiness. The beach and the memories therein. White sand.
The cool wind in my hair gives me hope -- reminds me that just like everything else in life, there are cycles. Winter is coming again, and now I have so many other memories to contend with. Winter has always been a good time in my life, but like all others not without worry. It seems like every relationship I had ever gotten into was in the winter season, and over by the summer, or the following winter -- only to lead into yet another. Nostalgia surrounds me and often leaves a warm feeling in my heart, but the sweet isn't so simple... there is always the sour. Invariably, all these twinges of fond memories play out the tales over and into the devastating finally that will never change. The story of my life. These are the times when I take a step back and I enter one of those "what does it all mean” phases. Cyclical. All the memories that used to warm my heart come back to mind. All the people, all faces, all the words that inspired my soul come to mind. I somehow feel like I am going to die because my life flashes before my eyes on a daily basis.
Doomed isn't the right... but it's the first word that comes to mind
, where are you now? Somehow my life is bliss
fully spinning out of control, and I don't really care
. This isn't a cry of desperation
; this isn't my last will
and testament. These aren't the things that make me, me -- they're just words.
It is okay to miss someone....     right?
Another lonely day. feh.