it's been quite a while, hasn't it?
tossed and turned all night, my head filled with ghosts like it hasn't been in months. whispering, reminding, guiding... when I woke up it was like struggling to the surface of some thick dark liquid, smothering and sucking me back down. as soon as I could break free I rose from my bed before the spectres* could drag me back below the surface. the sun wasn't even all the way up. I barely noticed the clothes I was pulling on and didn't breathe easy until I was on the railroad tracks with the first rays of sun in my eyes, letting the cold morning air chase the last of the phantoms from my mind, feeling the chords of eluvium like a whirlpool in my headphones sucking the disconcerting images of past down...down...down.......
moving on, growing up, getting a life. it all feels so good, so simple, so... right. but sometimes the distraction of being constantly busy is suspended and I get that sunday evening feeling again. the feeling I used to have all the time. the feeling of an empty space and no way to properly fill it. most often I can't tell if it's within me or I'm looking down into it from the edge.
how melodramatic!
tonight the real versions of the ghosts that interrupted my slumber will be congregating, myself among them. I'll drink beer and nod and pose for pictures and try to say all the right words. words that convey delight at seeing them after all this time, but fall appropriately short of sounding desperate or anxious. I'll count the minutes until it's socially acceptable to make my escape.
hours later at home in my bed I'll wonder why I bothered.
why do I bother? because the infrequent appearances required to continue considering these people my friends are less cumbersome than the feeling that one has no friends - and much, much less of a hassle than making new friends.
it won't be as bad as all that, I know. it's just so hard, sometimes, to find a balance.
*I know that's not how you spell specters, but I saw it this way in a poem once and liked it better. sue me.
tossed and turned all night, my head filled with ghosts like it hasn't been in months. whispering, reminding, guiding... when I woke up it was like struggling to the surface of some thick dark liquid, smothering and sucking me back down. as soon as I could break free I rose from my bed before the spectres* could drag me back below the surface. the sun wasn't even all the way up. I barely noticed the clothes I was pulling on and didn't breathe easy until I was on the railroad tracks with the first rays of sun in my eyes, letting the cold morning air chase the last of the phantoms from my mind, feeling the chords of eluvium like a whirlpool in my headphones sucking the disconcerting images of past down...down...down.......
moving on, growing up, getting a life. it all feels so good, so simple, so... right. but sometimes the distraction of being constantly busy is suspended and I get that sunday evening feeling again. the feeling I used to have all the time. the feeling of an empty space and no way to properly fill it. most often I can't tell if it's within me or I'm looking down into it from the edge.
how melodramatic!
tonight the real versions of the ghosts that interrupted my slumber will be congregating, myself among them. I'll drink beer and nod and pose for pictures and try to say all the right words. words that convey delight at seeing them after all this time, but fall appropriately short of sounding desperate or anxious. I'll count the minutes until it's socially acceptable to make my escape.
hours later at home in my bed I'll wonder why I bothered.
why do I bother? because the infrequent appearances required to continue considering these people my friends are less cumbersome than the feeling that one has no friends - and much, much less of a hassle than making new friends.
it won't be as bad as all that, I know. it's just so hard, sometimes, to find a balance.
*I know that's not how you spell specters, but I saw it this way in a poem once and liked it better. sue me.
