Days of Caring Free

Let's all play house and be the pets.

Did we think of Now?

Let's move from there to here... to what we want and what we need.
But always live to what we wish.

And the Rest beyond the Horizon

It wasn't clear to me back then... but every thing else is peeling away.

I can actually feel it now.

Well I may be far, but I can always feel it

My mind never seems to want to rest. the other parts of me would never disagree... never retaliate or protest. it's all one thought. one feeling. one singular, insatiable soul. between the noise and all the movement... when nothing no longer begs for attention and the immediacy of the day releases its grip, i somehow always end up lying back upon my pillows with that one endearing thought:

Something could happen. it feels like something could happen. it feels so much like the thing that i've been waiting for. i felt it then, for sure. the air... it tingled with the glowing hum of fireflies and hasn't faded since. always landing back upon my finger tips. i can still see it too; that glow, that glance, that shape, and that way it all seemed to fit with me. it hasn't let go... that dream... that more than a dream that i can't seem to let free myself. even if i could i wouldn't let it fly. unless it flew with me. it would work... i feel like it could be. i haven't been mislead or misplaced by other chances or other ways; waiting until that time to feel that glow, to feel that glance, and feel that shape... just to see if i, hopefully, maybe, finally... can fit with it.

The last bits left...

There's something about the ephemeral nature of a college apartment that prevents me from accepting it as a comfortable living space. others seem ready and willing to refer to it as home, but i can't toss it around as easily. i mean, how could it be when i just spent a purgatorial five hours increasing the time and distance between me and it? between me and my Home.

These past five years, Home has always been what i left behind. never did i pack it up and place it on my pre-planned, pre-positioned desk. i always kept it separate. confusion had to be avoided. nothing was ever good enough... to have that designation, have that aura, that fondness. and still, when the space that i have is padded and clean, when the conversations aren't awkward or forced, and when the lights that are on glow warm even when i close my eyes... i still refuse to fracture my Home and hold it with me, nested in the sheets.

I suppose i'll have to take it along eventually. to somewhere... at some time. i think i already know a good place. but first...

I've gotta get outta here.

The Other Options

Sometimes it's difficult to accept certain outcomes... even if you expected it and prepared yourself ahead of time. there's still that bit of hope - a part of you amidst the insecurities and worries of half-met expectations - that shines ever so dimly. it's hard to deny its presence... ignore its strangely appealing light, however weak and singular it may seem. somewhere in that overwhelming void exists a chance for that spec to streak, suddenly and brilliantly, across the black... leaving a trail of fire and awe and worth. but it's rare at best, to expect as much or see as much. you're only left with the hope that the light will burn long enough for a new one to arise.

I mean, most stars never have the chance to fall... only fade.

Let's find the Magic, and lose Ourselves

Sometimes, when you meet people - for the first time or simply just in passing - it's easy to default to disregard... neatly placing them into that singular moment in your life. never call upon it again. never want or see a use... for it or them.

That's not the way it is right now. not for this. not for there. not for them.