when i hit the ground

I find myself caught up in this adult life. 10 hour days and disappointing people at the end of them.
I wish there were more hours in the day – isn’t that what every adult says.
how did i get this way? 

the surfaces in this apartment are gathering dust. i feel no connection to anything – i want to tear my hair out because i can’t find one surface that i feel comfortable resting on.
no ownership and no end in sight.
"that’s not your end game is it?" how do words on a screen or chords played from so far away still affect me.
heart beats and sweaty palms.
there’s no point in wasting time with a life that goes in circles. you don’t read anyway.

why is it that i feel so guilty? for the dust and for the unsettling feeling i get when i fall asleep.

it’s been 4 years since we lost zach. it seems like an incredibly long time.
His jacket is in the closet.
his name on my arm.
it’s so rare that people you met affect you like that. where they teach you to never settle – to make your own happiness.
i don’t care that other people who loved him don’t understand what he meant to me… how could they? I don’t understand their different relationships – so how could they understand things like talks on stone steps and late nights on the phone talking about our separate dreams.
and where am i four years later? 
sitting here with an aching head, throbbing actually.

i miss strange things. Friendship bracelets and poems.
it’s been a big year for losses and changes. my chest tightens to think of how much has changed.
my physical reaction to this is incredible. the tightening chest, the breathing – it’s not a poetic effect – i feel sick thinking about how rapidly the rug is pulled out from under you.
you rearrange. you adapt. and you forget?
my fits of nostalgia make me wonder about yours. are you sitting alone when a scent hits you, or the chord from a familiar song? does it hurt you ever? still? 
and there i am, waiting for life to happen to me. when it already has.

i don’t believe in fate. i don’t believe in faith. in god. in a divine path.
i just believe in the fact that we get one chance to do it right.
and because of that – i have two schools of thought,
1 – that it doesn’t matter because i only do it once… so why not screw up as many times as i want and experience everything
or
2 – that having anything less than perfection is stupid if we only get one shot.

i think winter is getting to me. i think the snow piled atop more snow has frozen any ability i have for clarity. the scurrying of the squirrels under the eaves at night and the constant dripping of melting icicles has driven me into a dark little corner and i’m waiting for spring to thaw me.
i so desperately want it to be about me. chords played and needs expressed. instead of whatever came before.
my life is stuck in a permanent loop – with old movies replaying and no progress being made.

i’ve been listening to Ace Enders too much lately. too many romantic notions and improbable ideals.
who really fights that hard? who really loves that hard? isn’t it impossible? I never thought it was – i guess growing up does that? 

i never wanted that.
i still think it’s possible. i really do.