Posts in category "Thoughts"

Unspoken

I can see it in your eyes
I can hear it in your voice
the signs are obvi­ous
that all we had has run its course

—Matchbook, Strung Out

The hard­est thing isn’t know­ing this’ll end, because the cer­tain­ty of such a fact was clear from the moment we start­ed. It’s know­ing that the end is com­ing and still falling in love that’s the hard­est.

How can I dis­tance myself when every­thing you do draws me clos­er? If only it was­n’t so fruit­less to keep remind­ing myself that this will nev­er last. All that can be said is that it’s worth it. Everything I’ll be feel­ing soon is worth anoth­er night lying next to you, worth anoth­er morn­ing wak­ing up with you.

So give me one more kiss, one more taste of your lips, and tell me how much you’ll miss this.

Don't Be Brash (Cause Your Friends Will Suck, Just Like You)

When the char­ac­ter of a man is not clear to you, look at his friends.

—Japanese Proverb

Ever meet some­one whose com­pa­ny was ques­tion­able at best, and think, “Why does this per­son hang out with these peo­ple?”

One may imme­di­ate­ly think of the “friends” in ques­tion, peo­ple who prove to be stu­pid, super­fi­cial, unpleas­ant at best. Ultimately, how­ev­er, the truth lies in the key per­son who keeps such com­pa­ny. The apho­risms have nev­er been more true.

In the case of ques­tion­able com­pa­ny, the answer is atten­tion. A per­son with a mot­ley crew of friends, each one unlike the next, and each one con­sis­tent in their lack of social skills, is most like­ly a per­son who is after atten­tion.

The rea­sons for this are as plen­ti­ful as they are var­ied. Some are only com­fort­able when they are around oth­ers. Others enjoy the feel­ing of being a per­son who knows every­one. And some are so sub­con­scious­ly inse­cure as to need such com­pa­ny to believe they’re of some val­ue. So, to under­stand the seem­ing­ly eclec­tic taste in peo­ple of the key per­son, one must look to his or her com­pa­ny.

And often that proves to be more reveal­ing than any­thing else.

Guilt-Free Selfishness

I’ve been brave enough to lis­ten to The Postal Service late­ly, although my enjoy­ment is restrict­ed to head­phones on the bus. It’s still some­thing that’s a lit­tle too per­son­al to be lis­ten­ing through speak­ers, and for some rea­son, I’m not com­fort­able with oth­ers hear­ing the same songs that I do. It’s as if being able to hear the same trip­py beats and soft voic­es gives oth­er peo­ple the abil­i­ty to expe­ri­ence the mem­o­ries that the music brings to my mind; curves in a gen­tle face, car rides through the thick sum­mer air, ner­vous fum­blings on the couch, the scent of unfa­mil­iar sheets.

They’re all good mem­o­ries, noth­ing painful any­more, but it’s all some­thing I’d like to keep to myself for just a lit­tle longer.

The Awareness Of Freedom

Thumbnail: Lincoln Fields bus station

OC Transpo buses

Freedom.

Freedom from what has been a shroud, not a weight, on my mind for as long as I’ve known. Tonight con­firmed what was sus­pect­ed for weeks, when I stepped out into shad­ows and lights, and walked through a dry field against the dark­ness.

A rush. The feel­ing of hav­ing every­thing to gain and noth­ing to lose. That I can start liv­ing now.

Freedom in the soli­tude.