The chilled liquid of me.
by sleazypanda
(635 views) - 1/15/05
(recorded 1/15/05 @ 1:03:39 AM)
Sidenote: My precious livejournal is currently having technical difficulties, so I decided to post the entry I was writing in here. Enjoy, be kind, and love the weather.

I hate this wall. Expansive, luminously intimidating, cold to the touch. This impenetrable obstruction that leaves me here, hands tied, few choices. Can you see me running into it, slamming sideways, lunging head first into the defiance? Is that a crack? No? Just a trick of light then... I'd give my life and more to bust through, to know precisely the tint to the sky on the other side, to smell the air, to stretch out on the cliched greener grass. There must be better things than this, don't you think? Than life that only makes sense when neatly parceled out in hour packets... I live my life by that clock and when he goes out for coffee breaks, he takes the splints that bolster me to composure with him. They sip lattes and mull my latest misadventures over in their conversation while I fidget in the hallway. I am malleable, I am misshapen, I am poorly formed gelatin, I am on the floor, a puddle of well this is just a mess.

I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, the tears that I'm accustomed to blinking back pooling in my heart. I'm sure by now there is a small lake at least. Perfect shine of the moon on the surface, jet black depths that lead to jagged, unforgotten angst. Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to swim there? The chilled liquid of me lapping against your naked skin, feel free to float forever.

Can you tell you've got me on the rocks?

Should I be ashamed of this? Of my open ended offers of emotional availability that I know I'll most likely revoke? Shame is one thing that I rarely feel it seems -- perhaps shame and happiness are out for a stroll. Or having coffee with the clock...

If I stare into your eyes long enough, can I figure out exactly what it will take to make me fall in love with you? How can I turn your every days into out of this worlds? Do you think there's glue strong enough to add extra to ordinary? Where's a pedestal when you need one... I'd like to believe that the possibilities are endless, but I see nothing but dead ends and the terrible, the impenetrable obstruction, this wall that I hate.

If today were a word, it would be unnerved.

A little girl, three years old maybe, was walking (or rather, hopping and prancing) down the street holding hands with a man. She was precious in her little wool coat and shiny black shoes, dark hair pulled back in successive ponytails. In the coffee shop, I watched her dance to the guitar and vocal duo playing in the corner and was immeasurably jealous. I craved the neverending list of firsts that she has waiting patiently for her through the years. First days of schools, first romantic glances, first stinging disappointments... So much possibility of innocence and perfection and beautiful things, oh how heartbreakingly beautiful...

Freedom is an illusion we fool ourselves with all our lives. Youth craves the freedom and experience that comes with time, but once soured by age, we crave the simplicity of children. There are no obligations for that little girl. Except to dance. In a coffee shop. And make jaded people like me smile, however bittersweetly.
Previous entry: An unfortunate addition.
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