My Letter (pt2): Where My Mind Takes Me

In the past four months… my whole life has gone by.  
I’ve seen new places, met new people, and even dated a few times.  
I’ve interacted with people, not something I’m known to do, and made new friends.  
But it all comes down to the friends I lost, the ones who can’t be replaced.  
 
I tried to live, basically pouring my soul into those around me, hoping that everything in life will be ok,  
but all in all it seems the world has gotten the best of me.  
I’m not one bit smarter, not one bit wittier or stronger.  
I sit here trying not to cry.  
I sit here wondering why I am the way I am.  
 
I still drive down the same streets of my childhood, still slowing down when I pass my best-friend’s place…  
or at least where she used to live.  
I still stare out the window across the street, looking into the empty house where my other,  
very close friend, of whom I knew at age two,  
had once open her door to me in a manner that could not remotely be explained.  
 
It seems that it’s not only loosing the friends you trusted that hurts the most…  
its loosing the trust you gave.  
It’s loosing the life you lived and the life you’ll never live again.  
It’s trying to replace it, trying to build another, which seems impeccable, impossible… unreachable.  
It’s growing up.  
 
But what if what you thought, was the best time of your life, 
nothing close to just right. What if you knew all along that you were unable to feel happy?  
Because I know I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t at all what you call “perfect”.  
My mind just blames the lost of my childhood for this unhappiness I carry.  
But I wasn’t happy before all of this.  
I still cry.  
I still cry.  
I still shut out the people in my life. I still give up when times get tough. I’m still a failure.  
 
I think maybe I can just take another year to figure what I’ll do in life.  
But in truth, it’s to figure what I’m doing in life now.  
I’m not thinking of the future, I’m not thinking at all.  
I daydream. About nothing really, I just sit there, wondering... 
Why the desk smells the way it smells. What the girl in the hallway is thinking of.  
Why her face seemed like she felt pain.  
Why no one noticed her the way I noticed her at that very moment.  
How life seems like its going so fast, but when I day dream, looking at the faces, everything stops. 
Because life grows inside a person, inside every single person around a room, a bus, a hallway.  
 
My dreams aren’t expected to make sense. They just fly around, unwinding the way they do.  
And then I wake up again, to a pile of homework and shit I’m supposed to sort.  
But all I want to do is go back to sleep. Go back to the faces. 
Study there every move because it fascinates me… it helps me forget the life I live.  
To forget the emptiness I feel when I sit and stare at the open book, or, in my case, the closed one, that,  
to flip another page, is never … it never … turns…  
I just daydream. 

by lonedevil on 5 Nov 2004 at 20:01

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