It’s been a year. Give or take a week or two, it’s been one year since I started chasing that one thing that I can’t have and after all that’s been said and done, I don’t know where I stand. One year ago my hair was shorter and I was a little more young and naive. I still felt connected to my dreams and the world. Can I say that about myself now? I don’t know.
I seem to be the same sad boy I was last spring, but a sad boy can only be sad if he is filled with hope. Is there any left? I stand on top of success and yet feel nothing because of it. I’ve had three spectacular shows in a row but as soon as I step off the stage and the lights turn to black, I fall back into my own story. Robbie Hart finds a happy ending in two hours, but Brian Sears has been less efficient. Still, the life of Brian is longer than two hours, so to judge based on something as short as one year does no justice to the whole picture. And even within this year of sadness, my soul has expended. Even through the emptiness I have been finding things that I never knew were there. It has become conditioned to bear more in the effort to create more. I just need to create more.
But just then he wondered how he would find such an inspiration when he has only one longing in his heart. He sat at his desk, surrounded by clutter and dimly lit lamps while the grey sky gently covered the land in early spring dreariness. He had been thinking of her less, but she still found his mind quite often. Mostly when he was with other people who were most likely celebrating something. He’d run off and stare at the sky talking to himself as though someone else were there. But there was no one there, so he’d fall back to where he was and go on to the next day.
I was talking to a friend, who brought up an interesting point. This is not where I’m meant to stay. Not at college, not in this mind set and not in this kind of life. This will all either become part of something else or fall away to nothingness. Only being able to see the time line from moment to moment doesn’t seem t help all that much, but there’s nothing that can be done about that. There’s nothing that can be done about so many things, and yet so much that can be done about others. I have sacrificed my free will out of despair and I have no idea how to get it back.
That’s not true. I do. I know damn well, but I don’t want to. Yet I see it already happening. All these memories that were once so alive, have turned to ghosts without me noticing. I’m lucky, most people don’t get the chance to have such a luxury. Some people have real problems. I suppose I do too, but I don’t think about them. I ignore what’s real and gaze off into fantasy far too often. The curse of a day dreamer.
Two shows left. I’m going to miss this show. Maybe it’s an ego thing, but I loved every second of it. I haven’t been a lead since 6th grade. The shows have been selling out and the house has been packed. They all come to listen to the sad boy sing songs about hearts and flowers.