| Regret eats humans |
[Nov. 14th, 2008|02:41 pm] |
Who thinks obliviousness is inversely proportional to misery? |
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| when two of the many things happen; the sad one gets. |
[Sep. 17th, 2008|06:44 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | django reinhardt | ] |
Back again.
Walking through town, today, every day. Beginning to recognise more and more faces. Never one of the faces that I miss. Walking through town and judging by interactions, I've learned a few things now about myself. One: it must be clear that I don't want a flyer anymore. I'm not sure if it's related or not, but two: I am the kind of person that bus drivers don't have to stop for. And similarly, three: I'm the kind of person who it's perfectly alright to push in front of in queues. Really, I mean it, go ahead, I'm tired.
I'm especially tired of circles. Malignant and concentric. These are not the years in which to be alone.
So anyway, it's no longer open to debate; I've definitely been left behind. A walk through town or a flick through a magazine and there's no arguing against it. I'm trying to put my finger on when it happened. Did it happen suddenly or was it gradual? If it was gradual, when did it begin? And most worryingly, did I let it happen deliberately?
There's always the future I guess. We can all wish the day away so we can go home. Wish away the rest of the week to enjoy a two day weekend. Wish away the year so we can start living, go places, meet people. In the meantime the past consumes all that dares to stand in its path for more than a second. The past which was the best, the past which was also the worst, only you can't wish it away. Yeah, you can try.
And nobody ever told me where the circle ends and where the circle begins. I only remember things.
My room was a metaphor, yours a mirage. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 26th, 2006|10:07 am] |
Today was just projected onto yesterday.
Before that, stray perfume particles lingered in the air from the neck of a stranger. |
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