Hoodie
Warning: This won’t be one of those happy fun posts. Doesn’t mean I’m contemplating bad things. Just thinking deep, and sometimes that can come off depressing. Doesn’t mean I am depressed. I just need to get things out so they aren’t inside. If you can’t read this and keep your self from trying to “Pull me out of (whatever you think I am in),” then please just don’t read. I am not sinking. Just purging.
It’s been a while since I wrote anything. I have a list of about 20 things I want to write about. This isn’t one of them. This is something that I just really need to get down while it is in me. This may not make sense, so just ignore it if need be. I just want to ramble. I’m sitting in bed, listening to random music on Pandora inspired by the band Life in Mono and a few other songs off the Great expectations soundtrack. Epic soundtrack for deep thinking, self loathing, belly button gazing, etc. etc.
I just finished watching a movie that was one of those self discovery plots. In the end the main character has been through many things and all the while felt lost, until the end, just to discover who and what they are and that what they are and want is in the midst of all that they were lost in. I Have been feeling a deep pull in my heart as of late. I was telling a friend that I really just needed to travel. To get out. I live a life of transition, and am in desperate need of a new change. I have been floating around from one place to the next for the better part of ten years. Mostly physical locations, but in some ways also emotionally. Lately I have continued the physical floating, but I have felt stuck in the emotional section. In the last few years I have made some different choices. Some I never thought I could make, others I never wanted to make, some I made without thinking, some I put my entire will into, and a few that were truly mine and mine alone. I have made many people happy, hurt quite a few others, and all the while never been sure of what makes me happy.
In the past I always found joy in bringing joy to others. It’s my personality, after all, to be focused on others. But recently I have spent a good bit of time alone. In aloneness there is no one but myself to think of. If my joy is in others, then I lost my joy. But is that really true? Probably not. There have been amazing moments, I just can’t see them right now. Tomorrow I will wake up and not be able to see this place I am now, I will forget and be happy. I may find joy tomorrow and move on. But I wanted to dig into this while I was here.
When I was over seas I would often go to the nearest big City (mostly Auckland), put my earphones in, watch people, drink coffee, walk for hours, explore different streets and ally ways, and in the end just lose my self in the surroundings. Disappear in the crowd. Feel nonexistent for a while. Just be a walking, raw emotion. I would often be praying while walking. Talking to God about what I saw, what I felt. But really the goal wasn’t to do anything special. It was to just “be.” I just wanted to turn everything in my life off for just a little while, no deadlines, no expectations, no demands, no job, no needs, nothing but just “being” for as long as I could get away with it.
Pandora is playing Dido. One of the many albums I would actually listen to while walking the parks in Auckland.
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I just want to be lost. Not recognized. Don’t see me. Turn away and keep on your merry little way. Where you go is no concern of mine. You walk away on the plank of your life, towards cartoon pictures of children, houses, and a brown little dog. I walk into the sea, to see the reef. Solid and colorful. Hard and unmoving. A violent, deadly, safe refuge for life. Bringing the taste of semi-sweet finality. Maybe I’ll rest, pick my feet up and close my eyes. Watch the light reflect upon the ceiling like the aurora Borealis in a deep, winter sky as she swings me to sleep. Beneath me they follow their paths as they tangle in and around, watching and not seeing with their big bulging eyes. Blinking to wash away what should not be imprinted forever in their conscience. Yet how do we forget, what can’t be remembered. It’s on the edge, like a shadow in the doorway. So close, yet not tangible. Evidence, without proof. Co-ordinance with out the map. How can we not be lost? And still we wander, wrapping our lives around each other like the braiding of a strand of rope. Splintered and intertwined. Barren, as leaves fall in the cold. Not dead, just sleeping and disconnected. The walls, like thick cork, bring loss. We strive only to repeat. Still the grass will grow, and footsteps will fade, leaving no evidence of the lives lived by those that left them. Alone we wait. Just shy of the hill we look, strain, crane our necks to see what is beyond the horizon. Romanticized in movies by the orange sunset, we believe there is a happy ending with rosy, fuzzy, warm completion awaiting. But the horizon reaches, stretches on like a silver road. beautiful and untouchable. No rest stops, just hesitations. Moments of doubt. We walk this desert alone, surrounded by a multitude.
Like an empty box, with a scent and stain of what was once held inside is my mind. I look into the emptiness not seeing what fills the void. The chasm is filled to brimming, yet I see only the opposing wall of an abandoned room, scattered with the remnants of a childhood lost. My plush protector resting, sighing, heart heavy. Beads of sweat run into cotton as I bore another hole in the floor with my eyes. Another world of beautiful black and white perfection lies just the other side of hope. My world red and blue and brown when the light is on. The darkness, thick like a blanket of a starless night is my world. Leaving no shadows in snow. Hardening to stone. I walk alone, past the buildings of the white collar, and through the world of blue. Seeing and being unseen. If only I lost my way, I would never have to return.
Now to dream,
