02/22/04

I'm a drug he says. But one that won't kill him. An herbal drug, so much more good than bad. And he's high off of me, smoking me down til I'm nothing. What a waste.
And after reading the stylized writing of The Virgin Suicides, watching the film in my head all over again, I feel nostalgic and obligated to express myself.
I can taste summer if I close my eyes and think hard enough. But what good will that do? Now, in the dead of Winter? It's sometimes hard to even believe in a Spring, let alone a Summer after that. Not that I'm so caught up in the silent cold of Winter. I just know that my dreams are only dreams. And I may never feel Summer the way I did before. The sun will never shine the way it does when I close my eyes. My music hardly sounds the same. But it's still Summer in my memories And my memories are better than any photo album. Mixed cds he made me are the soundtracks for each and every thought. I dig them out sometimes and the nostalgic smell attacks me. Knocking me to my knees. I wouldn't get up if I didn't have to. I could die, as long as my memories were there to mute death's rattle. I doubt I'd even know.
Sometimes I surprise myself. When my heart skips a beat at the sound of my telephone. Or when I wake up smiling, only to realize he doesn't exist anymore and my euphoria is false. I'm such a joke. He wouldn't do this. And I don't even know why I would pretend that he does. It would never make a difference. Keep dreaming, right? But "Dreams they're for those who sleep. Life, it's for us to keep."
I'm living right now, as my music becomes the soundtrack to these thoughts and soon these memories. This is all a phase. Years down the road I'll look at today- the same way I look at the years that have passed me already. It's all a phase. Because nothing is constant, all will change. My entire life has been proving this to me. Mocking my attempts to stop the smallest change. Laughing when I collapse in exhaustion. What a waste of time- my attempts at saving my world from the pollution that is change. Change brought on by my self. My own self destruction. It's amazing, the way my life resembles life of Mankind. All of the self destruction and hardly any of the understanding. But who could have thought it would go this way?
Writing for writings sake, nothing but raw thoughts to move my pen. Intention to come back and read this soon.