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.