Do I ever make sense? Just wondering.
So, dear world, let me attempt to share some wisdom.
I think...
I was trying a small experiment. It is said in places that the solemn, those with seldom solemnities and soarings, those, those, those are happy truly. Though they sit in silence, they truly reap silence and harvest wisdom. Words are not wisdom to them. However, the sullen and dreary are not happy. At least... Not when they are me. Then I took a 180 down a road and became rather secular and of Terra. Lovely, light; kind of pertinent as that Whips Yoghurt Shit. Yes. I felt delicious, but I felt so mundane. Nobody likes yoghurt enough to pack it for lunch.
There must be a grey, though. We all polarize to the blacks and to the whites, and we don't mix the apples and oranges to make a lovely citrus, warm, fruity concoction. We must. There must be. I can't quite figure it out. It seems that it should be easy.
You see, when I lie awake or when I am asleep and haunted by murderous nightmares, I think of the "missed" matter in the world.
Math isn't math. We're all wrong! The road diverged quite a while back, with Rene Descartes and with Pythagoras; we accepted it. I can't... I mean, I can, to make an A. But in reality, the flast reality that is my head, math is not math.
And the words that we are speaking? In context? What are they really? A societal method of clearer understanding, but at what price? To where the manufactured vowels and sounds, organized and tried true by the Ages, are suddenly deemed as "banned" in a certain order?
I really wish that / wonder if Hitler had sat back once, just once, and wondered and wished what I am now wondering and wishing.
The problem is that I am not a pushover, but I'm quiet.
And I'm loud, but I'm not an asshole.
I expatiate at great lengths, but I am not as confident as it would appear to not be.
I struggle, but I get nowhere with my perfection progression.
Love, Bianca.
So, it happened today just as perfectly as the movies.
I passed him in the halls several times. I couldn't really bring myself to say goodbye. I've never liked that "formal goodbye" thing. Where you just know it is the end, and you make that fact apparent. No, in the Goodbye Moments I just grow in observance and taciturnity. Some might regard me as cold and composed, but on the inside I am waving so fervently I fear my own veins will delve.
I certainly couldn't interrupt a conversation between two fleeting persons. I certainly couldn't even glance as I passed.
No,
I
just
walked out the door and didn't look back at all. Really. That's how it happened.
And in my mind, this is how it happened:
"I will miss you, good man. I will."
I left as cold as the day I had come, when I didn't even know a thing about life up to that point in my life.
But when I returned, he was in his truck and I waved goodbye and watched him drive off somewhere. I didn't cry, but I could have. I didn't. Maybe I wanted to.
And this is how it really happened:
"Goodbye!"
I smiled as I walked into the building. I know that was the last time I'd see him for a while, and I felt incredibly saddened. But it was all right in that moment; it was okay to be sad.
I must admit... I'm very frightened. Summer is beginning, and I don't know how to be free again. Last summer, each night was spent. Just that: spent. Not doing anything or talking or being, but spent they were, sin embargo. I'm scared now because I listen to music and sometimes I want to cry. One day these will be melodies of the past... One day very soon. Each day, the past becomes an increasingly more clear-cut definition:
A YEAR.
A MONTH.
YESTERDAY.
YESTERDAY.
YESTERDAY.
We're never really ready when they throw us to the lions, are we?
A new season or mark in Time usually deserves a list.
MY LIST OF SUMMER GOALS:
-Photography. Learn it. Experiment: with film types, speeds, push processing, holding back, papers, situations, themes. Learn that damn Minolta Maxxum 7000 like the back of my hand.
-Reading. The classics. Beat Susan.
-Be. Just be.
-Freedom time.
-Piano. I'm a lazy ass.
-Make discoveries.
-Music...Get those CDs. Finally make a mix tape.
...Very scared.
You see, I feel as though I have something profusely profound to proclaim and if I continue rambling and stalling ignorance for time, that will surface and make itself well-known among my molars.
"I'm inside your mouth now, behind your tonsils, peaking over your molars."
"Ode to Divorce" was the summer song last summer. Not... a good thing...
I had my eyes open, though; I guess I did that to dry any tears.
Now that I've closed them, they don't leak anymore.
I can't really decide on which combination I prefer. You can't have tears in your eyes and shut them tight... You will drown yourself to death in the end.
And if your eyes are dry and open, you will become blind from the sights that you see sans aide of a little few magnification droplets.
I remember, one night I sat at my keyboard
and I thought
"To hell with this world."
I played quite a few songs. I sang them very loudly. The whole scene was very haphazard, very sloppy and angry. And like Cheerios and glue on cardboard, it was 'beautiful.'
Do you think there's something better to be than human?
There's this dream I have. I want to go to this grave, and I want to leave something. I'm scared that the sovereign subjects, of, of them. I'm scared of all of them. I go to Sam's Club and there they are, buying sodas and groceries. There needs to be something else. By Jove, I will go insane finding this missing piece. I will. Sometimes I wish the subdued lacking would return from its shadow in the Younger Days and I could dance freely, but right now I waltz with an elephant in the room. Nobody wants to talk about the sad, little lives we lead on leashes, very short leashes. I think they are very happy lives, but they are not contented. I don't do happy; I do content.
So, tonight is the first night of my Summertime affair with experimentation. Afraid. Alone, too alone to turn off the music and face the silence in my couch upstairs. Too afraid to walk up the stairs in the dark and in the night. Too afraid to leave the music.
...Therefore, I am.
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