I sat in my living room in what at first appeared to be silence, saying nothing and thinking almost nothing. Then room began to fill with the beautifully metaphoric sound of ticking clocks in a creaking house. I spent all day thinking and regretting the time that I’ve lost. The ideas held by a teenage boy still ring in my head but I’m 20 now, aren’t I? I’m actually 2 months out from 21. Has this dreaded time come? Is the fun over? Is my spirit dying? Will I soon be too far into my adult life to keep playing out my dreamt up aspirations?
I fear what I may lose, including this right here. Who knows if my writing will fall away to the responsibilities that are tossed upon me? Those terrible things that are tossed upon us all from birth. It’s quite unfair if you ask me. Before we are even born, we are set into the routine of how things go. This is very much true and in effect here in the ‘land of the free’. I wonder if ‘the land of the free’ is trademarked. Wouldn’t that be irony so beautiful that it makes you want to throw up?
I have thoughts of productivity right now, so I think I’ll finish my ice cream and go to bed. I guess I am growing up, and turning into Kathy or whatever the hell her name is. The one in that not really funny comic strip.
Meanwhile, in the Future…
A whole day more of dreaming come and gone. Would you like to see what has come from it? As would I, my friend. I don’t really even know what’s changed from the top of this page. I at the very least want to believe that something has changed. I feel as though I remember something different from this but I have no idea what really was. I never will either. I will most likely never know what this week did for me. I went off of Facebook for a week. How sad my accomplishments have become. I will hold the record for 7th place finishes.
It is now a new day as I freeze these words in time. The clock alerts me to the change in date and I can only turn my head as it laughs. I don’t have the thoughts as of now. I apologize.
It’s very difficult, you have to understand. When you are told to do something and you have to because the only other party involved has already gone ahead and done it so you’re left with nothing but your hands in your pockets and the terrible feeling of nowhere to go. And the worst part is, you just wake up in your bed way past noon to the sound of rain beginning to fall on leaves outside my open window. I will miss the tyrannical serenity of this place.
All this and still a day late. I have nowhere to go and nothing to do for I have been stricken with the imaginary disease of having no dough. This revolution of mine is a lot of work and I’ve hardly even gotten two steps into this whole ordeal which will be a marathon in length, metaphorically or something like that. I don’t imagine I’ll be able to stop until the sparks stop shooting from my brain. The thing that makes this the most disgustingly adorable attempt at changing the world without a doubt has to be that this room must be clean before anything else can get going. I also have to wait for a change of scenery. The dough thing definitely limits my mobility. I travel on borrowed miles.
So all I can do now is really something that I haven’t done in quite some time. I have to sit in my little cell of peaceful confinement and wait out a few days. Waiting will bring thoughts and thoughts and thoughts with nowhere to run to. Self created problems and solutions all have to be dealt with before the long march in to the bring light of tomorrow.
There is always the chance that light isn’t the nuclear holocaust and if there’s a chance I could risk losing my whole life as I’ve known it, I should certainly take such an opportunity. Any fool knows the bigger the risk the bigger the payout. Fools usually make sound financial decisions.
This room still isn’t clean and it would appear that I’ve tossed away a few more hours away on more nothingness. I know why I’m not moving in any direction, least of all forward. I’ve known this whole time. A man could spend his whole life chasing an idea without any regard for whether it’s real or not. For the measure of merit in a man is the passion that he pursues what he sees, even if it was never really there.
I apologize for all of this. Someone once told me the rain is romantic. I get like this here and there when it rains. I also do this when it’s sunny, so I’ll just apologize for myself in general. It’s not all bad but I can see how it gets borning.