You will go to the paper towns
And you will never come back.
It’s been ages since I pondered upon something you said
And I remember the days when I thought being indifferent was impossible
Thank you for giving me hope that I can carry on being this person- that it’s so hard to leave, until you actually do leave, and once you do it’s the most liberating thing in the world- almost addictive, that you weren’t the axis my life spun around.
Now you get to be you, I get to be me and everybody gets to be everybody.
This one had a poise with which he played the guitar. Musicians have appealed to me more than anyone out of professions in the local dating circle- I guess that would be nothing new considering I look for my parallel lives in other people- what I could’ve been. Drummers, photographers, army guys, cashiers, bartenders- a breath of fresh air
This one I met while smoking some high grade hashish at a friends jam room while we created what we thought were masterpieces but when heard to it sober it was utter shit.
But theres absolutely nothing else to do on a Friday afternoon in this godforsaken city. You eat lunch, smoke a j, throw filters on photos. But you learn to enjoy it.
Lying in this moment do I realise the foolish mistakes I had gone and done. The fights that I picked over trivial issues. The hearts that I broke without intending to or in some cases with a purpose. My heart lay burdened with the kind of sadness I can’t put into words. It aches for everyone’s faults and mistakes collectively. It aches that it couldn’t offer much words of solace. It feels like it’s going to burst out any moment from it’s cavity and beg me to let it cease it’s function. The merciful way out.
How do I explain this to anyone but me. My heart doesn’t cry for me, it cries for all our collective follies. It cries for everyone I’ve had the pleasure to meet.
I’m sorry- I couldn’t do much. This doesn’t contain any answers but I had to write something down before I know for sure I don’t have a chance.