The Long Short Stories I Wish You Knew @ 6:53 AM

(just pulling thoughts from my journal):

Waiting

I wonder why, that feeling. Waiting? Sudden impulses to stand still, always in silence, always alone - on rooftops, under street lights, sitting on stairs, sinking in bed. Just waiting. It isn’t even as though words could explain that the vision of seeing ten feet ahead is just like looking five years down the road. No. Not at all.

The burden (or is it longing), of waiting for someone you have yet to meet? Defying the Montagues and Capulets, and sneaking out at night to stand on street corners. After a while you start to measure time by the number of passing cars, the length of green lights, the inch movement of 747’s in the sky - departures, arrivals, until what’s inside your chest is roaring louder than that engine flying overhead as you stand, waiting for a ‘hello’ to resonate to familiarity and rapid heartbeats. By daybreak, empty thinking has got you imagining that you’ve seen the future and it’s a blank face you wake up to, a blank face that mirrors your better half. A blank face, and it is all there is, all you know.

But if you’re not of the waiting-and-standing-still kind, then you must be the waiting- walking kind? You walk to meet someone somewhere, and sometimes the urge is so strong that you run, like ‘Run, Forrest, Run’ because you don’t know where to or who. A romantic on the road. Dangerous, amorous. And on street corners, you turn and bam…Collision.

Maybe I’ll meet you on one of those waits, maybe I have.
The point is, we meet, and I think that’s where our story begins.

-

Look closer. I am not an adult. Just a kid. With such great responsibilities.

-

Imagine that. Conversations with one’s mind happen mutely. Not even words. No. Images. Photographs. Stills. Visions in color, in black and white, in monochrome, in darkness, in light.

The output of thoughts running not on electrical ac/dc, but tactical wiring of aesthetic self-expression.

-

I don’t know why, but I
Always find myself staring at ceilings, at skies,
Anything directly overhead.
(and don’t you dare suggest it’s because of my height =P )
-

You know what gives me heavy boots? No matter how much you know someone, what is theirs can never be yours.
Or perhaps I’m just greedy that way.
-

I think we are part of the trendsetting culture. The ones who denounce fads just as others begin to embrace them; replace things even if they’re not broken, build layer upon layer of fresh ideas, stacked in a drawer and put away before dust begin to build up. We marvel at the oddities, lamenting the Joneses and the other Joneses next door. Are we part of the culture too impervious to evolution, too idle for another revolution? The ones who stay awake to create and destroy, but never settle, thus never satisfied; “tomorrow is so yesterday”. Why are we always one step ahead? What are we running away from? “Today is a toast for the day after the next,” and with that, a chuckle.