The past haunts me. Memories of times spent and people I was once close to creep into my mind and don't leave for entire nights. I try to drown them with alcohol, I try to commit murder of my memories, but this proves to be a futile (and costly) effort. I don't think the constant rainy weather of Portland helps me any. I feel more alone here among many than I did in Alaska among few. I was not judged there. I lived whatever way I felt was good for me, as I am doing here but with constant criticism. I eat what I like, I smoke cigarettes, and I drink. I have many dirty habits and I happen to enjoy most of them. Sorry, go live your "perfect life." Im living mine, I guess.
To be honest, Im lonely. In a city of thousands of people, Im constantly surrounded with other human beings, but no connections can be made. Missed connections occur often, as seen on Craigslist personals. Romantic tales of chance encounters that linger in the mind and happen in reality but never materialize into anything amazing. Well, I shouldn't say never because Im sure somebody out there has had a chance encounter and it turned out like the movies, but this is a dream in my world. On the train the other day I saw a most beautiful girl. She was different. Different is good. She was listening to her iPod, sitting straight in front of me faced in my direction. I thought, "this girl must be really cool," for some reason. I of course, looking like a young bum, must have been a drag to sit across from. Even if there was a slight interest on her part in me, nothing could come of it. I long for somebody else more than any of the girls in any city of the world. I also long for a good, genuine, close friend also. Too bad I left them on the East Coast and too bad one left this world. Its not my fault. Its the natural course of my life and it cannot be changed.
Oh the woes of being free.
And here's my bus. 1979 Volkswagen Transporter Type 2. What more is more debt when I can never pay it back? Try and catch me, United States Government. Im sure you will, in time. Until then..
"If i was crying
in the van
with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself
and from the land"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment