Peter Pan Was Never My Friend. Or, Ambition as a Mode of Time Travel.
by surrogate sonance
(776 views) -
(recorded 4/4/06 @ 6:56:15 PM)
Outside of a building devoted to cardiovascular devices, in the gutter, lay the box a bottle of aspirin used to be in, and a smashed Burger King wrapper. (I can't help but feel these things are somehow related.)
Conflicting proponents of the same issue, illustrated by cardboard and cement? Or just trash...? Either way, why do I feel so compelled to do something?
I'm damn anxious to move forward (story of my life), and this time it seems everyone else sees it too, this time its more than impatience. This is what happens when you jump into the game years ahead.
I have my moments of being appropriate to my age, my reminders of where I started and where I should be and why I'm not there. (If I'm not careful, I'll burn out at the age most people start.) I want to skip this, saving only the unrelated moments, months at a time, keeping only the joy, the talent, the inevitable satisfaction derived from the endeavor. No one remembers the depression, fuck-ups, and disappointments. Not the way that they actually happened, at least.
And how is this any different than it will actually happen anyway? Last month's live-or-die priority is forgotten; failures of the last five years twisted by time and perception into necessary reminders, or at least really awesome stories to demonstrate to others that Angela is human.
We could listen to our mothers' and learn to slow down. They only say it because they know we won't. So let's make a deal: when you finally come up for air, remind me to breathe, will you?
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