That Much Further West

Those words left behind.

I remember the brisk air of a march night. I remember wishing that the air smelt warmer, and thinking that you should be closer. But in the crowd of friends I found you furthest away. We shared drinks and talked all night, but it took hours for you to reach me. Brisk conversations and then we both parted ways. You would call me when we left and talk to me the whole ride home. It wasn’t fair that it you did not talk to me that night, but I couldn’t care less because at least you were talking to me then. I would be the last person you spoke to before you slept. I always hoped that would let me into your dreams. I hope it would stop you from even forgetting me. I still hope that though you're not calling me at night.

Dec. 4th, 2012 1:01 pm

There are moments spent alone that will hold more value, more weight and will become a memory compared to those moments spent among others. There are songs that cannot be played loud enough. Even with the windows rolled up to create this sound box, to obtain as much of the noise as possible and still it is not enough. In that moment you want the sound waves to be tangible, you want to be suffocated in noise, because the song evokes so much more emotion than any company could at that moment. There are days I never want to reach my destination, I never want to shut my car engine off, but rather engulf myself in the sound, and carry on that feeling of content down the road. There is a constant motion in my body wanting to move forward but my feet rest on the ground never going past the boundaries created by my job, and my schooling. There is the ideal of me resting inside myself. Its existence is known, but it continue to stay dormant. Its existence pulls me forward, searching for what will activate it. I am searching for the stimulant through my choices, I am making mistakes to try to awaken it. I am waiting for someone I may never know, I may know or remembering those I have known. There are these moments.

Restless, sleep.

Wake and be fine. To lay in bed for hours on end, tossing and conciliating yourself into rest. My slumber has turned into a mean of escape. What good is there to help me rest more peacefully? There is none. Instead I have an overwhelming conscious of ways to leave, to try to make myself happy, or at least content but the contradicting asshole in the back of my head laughing at me knowing the actuality that I cannot be. The darkness of my room haunts me for no matter how hard I squint I still can never make out what it around me. It is the comparison to the truth I know but I never hope to see. My sleep is my escape. I do not dream anymore. Flight or fight, my body's reaction to make to attempts to see how things could really end. To wake and be fine, what a beautiful dream.

May 18th, 2012 10:12pm

It gets so hard trying to grasp the human mind. I want to believe that there is a good intention in people's decision, and that they do and say things to you because they honestly care about you, but it is not true. It is all about self interest, anytime you want to go and they want you to stay it is just because you will make it easier on them. It is not about your happiness, it is about what they will loose once you go away. How can you tell someone that you are making the wrong decision? If that choice is what makes you happy and betters yourself, you made the right decision, and only you can decide if that was a poor or great choice. I am tired living my life to satisfy others rather than  focusing on what makes me happy. I feel stuck at a job that pretends to care for me, but they only care about what a great asset I am to the company rather than friend. I feel stuck, tired, overworked, and under accomplished. I need a way out, I am looking for a way out.

May 13th, 2012. 10:24 pm

There's a connection between the number 1024 and me. It is that time when I always look at the clock. I have no idea if I'm waiting for it, but it happens and I stare. I wonder what makes me, is it that much of a habit now to look at the clock then that I cannot even begin to realize that it is a habit? I am tired too. All the time. It never leaves me, and I can continue to sleep through everything. I feeling a bit disconnected. I've been trying to keep a journal but cannot find the energy to write in one, so I figured since I am on here all the time, why not start talking about my thoughts and tracking them on here for the time being. Maybe it will help me, even a little help would do.