40sI woke up to the age of 40 scrolled across my face. If anything could be said, it's this. The world had passed me by and I had largely ignored it. At some point you have to open your eyes; take part in the world in some sort of conscious manner. It's not something I often cared to do, but more and more it seemed I had fallen into this trap. Look, the problem I realized is that the further I misplaced myself from something, the less chance I had from finding it again. I closed my eyes at some point and just went along for the ride. I let the noises in, but blocked out everything else. It's all I could handle in a given moment.
The apartment I awoke to wasn't something I recognized. The only sign it was mine was the image of myself burned into everything. It was like looking into a mirror and not recognizing the person you saw looking back at you, but surely it was you, right? I tried to disregard the life that trailed behind me. I pushed everything out. I could fee
A Partial list.A partial list of things I've been doing while missing you:
1. I glanced back from my desk at the empty space where I always thought you'd be. I guess at some point I would have closed my eyes and saw this image of you, this moment where you were sitting there hard at work and all I'd think to do is look your way and smile, to look at such a beautiful person. What could I do, I wonder.
2. I installed myself on a seat across the table from a friend. Menus were dropped in front of us and our drink order was taken without much thought. Which friends do I enjoy the most? That it'd be acceptable to subject myself to this sort of ordeal? I briefed over the menu, grazed the images, and toyed with the names of the dishes. Only a few things seemed appetizing. My mind found a way to drifted and I lost track of where I had been going, I only could imagine where I wish I could be.
3. The rain tended to come down in blocks of days; it seemed I'd go a week or two without seeing the sun. I'll admit
Life in its entiretyYou could only ever say so many things before they've been said again, before they lose any resemblance of meaning. The words would become diluted, their intentions lost among their recipients; miss-interoperated by their own preconceived judgments and notions. I could never convey something so simply, as to compact it down to 4 letters, to restrict it so much. The life that ground itself into me, that thrust itself so vigorously upon me, it was more then I could ever say. What was I left with then? A few draft words that mucked about in the depths of my head, they struggled to form themselves into something they weren't. Was that to say there was no success? Something happened, but it could never be counted on to know what did happen. I never did talk much, but when I did they would lean in to strain to hear the words that escaped me.
If one thing could be said about my life, it is this. Each day was my life in its entirety. Every morning I would wake up, I would be born. The day is a
Natalie sat outside a small café in a relatively deserted town; in the distance a war raged on. The town had become an outpost between the larger population that flied the war ravaged land and those who fought with such determination and will for their motherland. Woman and men alike traveled through the small town towards the furry of death that plagued the land, as the fallen victims were taken home to their distrait families and friends. One by one they marched toward their inevitable graves.
Two old men sat talking of days past with such grandeur as they sipped their coffee. Their recollections became too much for Natalie to bear. She pulled herself to her feet, slung her rifle over her shoulder, and made her way towards the edge of the town. Natalie steadily entered into the forest that surrounded the town, cautious of every sound that crept past her ears. She wandered her way out of the forest into a small meadow, in the middle sat a rock and upon that roc
FogWe were strangers, stranger yet we chased after faded dreams and lost hope. I pursued after her with a sort of recklessness; she would glance back at me with a wicked grin smeared across her face and the sort of look in her eyes that begged me to follow. Was it foolish of me to have done so? The thought had crossed my mind that I had interpreted the situation wrongly, but her actions would prove my gut feelings to be right.
Who was she? In all honesty I didn't really know. I didn't know much about her beyond the few bits of information that slipped from her mouth as she chatted it up with others. I never could brave to ask the question myself; maybe I was scared to know the answer. Did it matter? I lived in the moment and hardly looked to the past. The past was just that, past. There wasn't much I could do about it or any part of it I could try to understand. I only ever could accept things as the way they have come to settle. The only thing I could ever change was their future. The pa