Turkeyphant (turkeyphant) wrote,
Turkeyphant
turkeyphant

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Life is woe.

One of the few things I enjoy about life right now is reminiscing. Looking back, thinking about great times past. There’s nothing quite like it. Nostalgia and the feeling of actually living that goes with it, is the most fabulous natural high. It’s even better if you have others to share your feelings and emotions with.

That’s why I’m scared about the future. Soon, I will be thrown into a different world. A world where I’m not in control at all, where I have nothing familiar to cling in desperation on to. A place of strangeness, an alien landscape dwarfing me with its size. The unbreakable daily routine, this monotonous, exhausting, unproductive existence is bad enough but... But I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to let go. Here, I will have no one to reminisce with, no one to talk to. No one who even remotely understands. No one who understands.

There are people, people so much better than me who don’t share their thoughts with me. I want a piece of their lives; I want to exist in them. I want to share - to understand them. I want their emotions, their feelings, their experiences. I want to be part of their experiences. Talking to someone I trust, to someone who will talk back. People discount me without knowing me. But I won’t discount them - I yearn for emotion. For something to make me alive - to keep me alive.

So many people, such fabulous people. And I don’t even know them. I don’t know them at all. I have been at school with them, five days a week for four years and yet I don’t know them well enough. I only have one year to go - time is sparse. Life is short. The best years are already over. Things just get worse. And worse. And worse.

I turn out the lights. I sit, alone. Alone. In the dark I can think, I can be myself. I lie down and think and ponder and consider. And I get so depressed and want to reach out and touch. Touch people - to talk like we’ve been friends forever. I want to keep contact with everyone. Everyone has a part of them inside me - I want to be in them. I remember, think back with them and talk. Talk and talk about times gone by. Past events that we can share and remember. But, more and more, these events are only remembered in me. By me. And still I forget more day by day. I want there to be someone to remind me. And I’ll remind them.

Even now the music plays on. It haunts my thoughts and they feed on it. The sound echoes, my thoughts repeated and embellished.

Understanding, thoughtfulness, kindness, patience. Qualities girls posses more than guys. I’m fed up of being on the brink. To know someone, but not know them enough. For them not to know me. I want to know, to understand everyone. Everyone has something great to offer - I want a part of it. I want to spend more time with people I know, to spread my horizons and heighten my friendships. I have little time left - I should go out more at weekends. But I still feel I’m missing out. Missing out on people, fabulous people I want to know better. But who won’t know me.

I wish I were small again. I wish I could relive those great moments again and again and again. I hope I remember the fun times I’ve had - I hope someone will remind me.

I lie, and think. And lie, and think. And imagine, and remember. And remember and remember and remember. And cry. Then, I begin to wither away. I slowly disintegrate - undernourished. I have forgotten. I haven’t been fed. Pain is unfelt. The futility of life is evident.

And still, the machine looks on, me a speck on its display. Disregard. It continues on, ignorant of me, my small insignificance not producing a reaction. Meanwhile, outside, the rain batters down. The lightning strikes one, two, three, four, five, six seconds before the thunder. I look out of my soaked window. Through the blurred, rain-soaked glass I stare - looking through the falling drops. Looking out, far out. I see through the objects, see through everything until I see nothing. I just see - an observer.

I long to be out there. In the wet rain.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 13 comments