2004-11-14
when nothing else compairs.
This has never been a love affair or a dwindling spirit crossing my path... but simply a shadow beneath me with hands intertwined and hearts held together so softly.
I cry in spurts and the headlights get blurry. The red and blue I see parked in a parking lot is not in my mind like it should be and now things are starting to make sense.
In my place, I find lines that define me. I find the music and I find the tone. I find the words and the feeling and the greatness that belongs to solitude. There is nothing else here. This is when I find the peace. And when I hear my name in between tracks on my cd... it bothers me. When I feel footsteps in the kitchen... it bothers me. When the dog sniffs me so quietly that all I feel is my shirt twitching like it's the wind that moves it... it bothers me.
In my place, I imagine nothing but lines and circles and places and feelings and silence and beauty and softness and stillness.
In my place, there is peace.
And there is none of this dramatic breaking up and falling through ice and drowning in shallow water and holding your breath for no good. There is no girl who keeps you waking up every day and keeps you breathing every day to wake up tomorrow and keep on.
I do not measure life in any sort. I do not measure life in minutes or in sexual sequencing or even in age. I'd like to say I measure life in greatness and in smiles and happiness. There hasn't been much lately.
I felt like my mother when I wanted to pull over and say, "walk home." I felt like shit when I wanted to ask for a break. I felt like I was dying when I drove away and felt like it was the end. The end. The end.
Because when no one believes in my signs, I always have. I did that first night when I felt her shoulder bump up on mine and there was no eye contact to call for and there was only orange shirts and fast cars and phone calls not being answered and pleads for more.
Because we're holding onto nothing. As much as I love this, I hate it more. I hate the way things have become. I hate the way things are turning into mush. How I can't remember a single good time any more. How I don't think about the greatness but I am arguing with myself the whole time I'm with her because all I want to do is run in circles and break down. I want to smash my head into the ground and enjoy the pain, because maybe it would feel better than this.
I hate coming home and even my mother, who observes nothing, recognizes that I am the most upset she's ever seen me.
And that pisses me off. Because this is my place. It was... until I realized that it's never been about me. I realized that it's never been my place, and my door is always open. I have zero closed doors in my life. I have no commitments.
Because I fear them. Because I am that easy to read. As funny as it sounds... you're right. I never admit that. I hate that sound. I hate that voice. I hate that temperment. You're right! I am afraid! I am afraid of how good this might seem one day. I am afraid of the life I will lead tomorrow. And I am afraid for my child, whoever it may be someday, for it may too fear commitment.
It's not shit any more. This is a self observation that I can not live life this way. I can not stand the thought of never feeling myself and never knowing how to enjoy my own life, without relying on anyone else for the entertainment.
Today was the first snow of the season. The lights are going out early and the mornings are coming heavy with cold. I beg for time and I forget to go to the gas station on my way home. I am in trouble and I don't care any more.
Nothing else compairs.
oilandwater at 12:00 a.m.