Am I Too Dumb to Reply I lay my head down and feel the expanse that lies between what is my life and what is his. Never will I understand what makes everything that is so unexpressibly human so truly baffling. I know that in short time, the depth of connection between me and every other being will be more of a block behind me than a brick in front of me. Because I have come to this place where to live today is harder than looking at tomorrow, for at least tomorow I know that I can be with myself where as everyone else? They could go missing. So I choose to try to grab tight onto the thoughts, feelings, sounds, sights, smells, and love that flows between our complex and intricate systems in order that I might not one day remorse, but one day remember: So to all these passing moments, I write to remember.

The still, thick air lies heavy on my face; cinnamin, spice, apple, butter, smoke, and (unfortunately) the smell of ass pollute my nose. Between exaggerated sighs and breaks of laughter, we all sit in silence, too tired to stir, too happy to complain. I know that I am thinking about what I need to write to him before I leave so that I can in some shape express what it has been like to live so close and be loved so much by such an amazing friend. I bet he is thinking how good that ice-cream sunday he just ate tasted and how much the car reaks. I know she is thinking about her stomach ache and the episode of Friends that always makes us laugh, so much so that she giggles to herself. But nobody moves, nobody questions, because everybody in my little car in his little driveway knows that these moments will be, from now on, few and far between. And that's okay..


New time

I smuggle my face deeper into the musty smell and try to breath into the depths of my lungs to choke the struggle I feel pulsing in my chest. Inscents make their smokey way into my nose and then even further into my heart and beyond. Although I am in pitch black, I feel no more alone than if in the womb of my own mother. Because I can feel love, I can hear the music of freedom, and I can touch the warmth of skin and cloth and breath and air that tells me I'm alright. The drums beat into my head as I taste my salty lips and blink slowly. My head knows that this will end, my intuition knows that this will hurt, but the rest of me says what the hell. Today is not tomorrow, so stop. breath. and let be.

again anew

My bags are packed, I am ready to go. Mom is sitting on my bed, holding me too tightly to move. She kisses my cheek and whispers "I Love You" and then retires. As she closes the door to my dark room and leaves me sinking into my sheets, I remember being 5 years old and feeling this moment. A moment where you know you are home, where you feel complete, and the night can take you without a struggle. I turn to the red walls that house me and look hard at the concentrated color. Each time before I sleep, this very color seeps so deeply into my vision that without closing my eyes, the world turns dark and today turns its page to reveal the blank slate of tomorrow. And tonight, this saturation occurs more slowly, more meaningfully than before as I hear my mother's footsteps reach the kitchen's wooden floor. For once, today doesn't end. I simply close my eyes and begin the nocturnal continuation of my life under the pressure of my down blanket.


God be with you as you live today as a memory for the future  ¶ 2:01 PM