01/20/2010

Soundtrack for Jan 20th entry: "Over This," Ace Enders (this is perfect. every word in its place.) 

i went back.
in time, in thoughts. i even retraced my steps in this diary. back to 2006.
there is no future to speak of.
what could be resurrected from 4 years ago?

i can’t sleep again.
it’s been months since i’ve sat awake like this. in the palm of your hands, i am calm. and i don’t need sleep aids or nights sitting up writing.
but there’s something about today.
about the balmy weather in the middle of january.
the world’s disasters and the superficial aid we dole out to make ourselves look better.
it’s promises that never are said aloud and ailments that cannot be mended.
i cannot do this alone. i guess in some ways, we are all on our own, aren’t we? we all cry out for the attention, the recognition. yet, we are all on the same page.

i haven’t been able to shake the feelings associated with lying in bed, reading. little motions of fingers – a palpable growth of love. happening right in front of us. above our heads.
it’s fiction. it never happened. or if it did – it was in a dingy room, it was in the blackness. it was nothing as i remember it. you are nothing like i have built you up to be.
it rises in my throat, thinking of similar nostalgic thoughts pumping through your dreams as you sleep. words uttered aloud that were not for me. you loved her.
is your sleep when you are your most honest?
i should have walked a million times. yet, we could say the same for you.
does the amazement wane with age? and i only feel it because it’s hard to keep up such passion when it’s only able to reach a certain quota.
when does it earn enough to be returned.
grand gestures and promises aside.

it’s not expected.

it’s only because i can’t sleep. and i thought this was months behind me.
where would i be if i hadn’t gone away that summer? where would i be if i had decided to give it all up? 

the same song on repeat i guess i’m the same person i always was. just with wrinkles forming in the corners of her eyes and the same washed up romantic notions that other, saner people would have abandoned long ago.

is it these ideals that keep me up at night?
or is the ringing phones, songs that needed to be played, words that needed to be written? things yet to be achieved? 
this is ignored. you don’t read because of the things you think you’ll find. words you interpret as our demise.
i just don’t know these days. about waking up in the morning. about going on without the most important people.
it would never work.
and i am no longer comforted by lulling myself to sleep with thoughts of the future. they just feel like stomach pains, pinched nerves and sweat under the covers.

"he was so perfect. he could have been in pictures." day in and day out. i can predict their thoughts, even the numbers they say. this is my job.
"maybe my life…maybe it’s not big enough for you."

i’m just taking a moment to listen to Ace. the problem is… i can’t listen without judgment anymore. i know too much. i see his wife and child.
i see the future and know dates and times. words. rhymes. inner thoughts.
it’s become too easy to read people.

maybe i should stop thinking so much and just let life happen.