at what age, do we honestly believe we find ourselves?
is it the same time we wear the dress we bought for that 'special occasion'?
is it the same time we finally decide to catch up with that friend you promised to see?
perhaps it's the same time you finally put your name down on the volunteer list?
do we expect to hit this age and be handed this book of answers, how to be happy, how to tell your children money doesn't grow on trees(i still think this is horse crap)
oh also chapter three; how to keep your job, how to stay ontop of your bills, how to enjoy a sunday, how to take care of yourself, how to relax, how to love; with all of it... how to not be an arsehole, how to be the best mother... i think there is a sudoku in there somewhere, to break up the common bullshit.
we add drama for spice, we lack humour because laughing is a weakness.
i'm half asleep blogging and trying not to re read back and forth messages.
when i'm on skates, i'm fine. but i don't like being the one people recognize it's not a bad thing. a wallflower, you're still there, you're still someone beautified and natural, you're just hung, usually with poise and grace and some kind of quiet self esteem, but you exist. that's the difference, i was a wall hanging, but i never existed. i wouldn't be able to tell you what the hook felt like in the nape of my neck. and i wouldn't be able to describe the sensation of being invisible.. because i was trapped in whatever wanted to eat me whole roasted and stuffed like a peppercorn. and that highway seemed much more tantalizing.
when i'm around my nephews i scream and play and act like an idiot.. i skip down the road. but most of the time, i assume as a 23 year old i should act a certain way.
never once has T not asked 'CAN WE GO TO POPPYS HOUSE' in the middle of the supermarket, how does a 3 year old act? like his parents?
the oddities of today has done my head in.
nothing could have prepared me for lashings such as these, and whatever it was, was beautiful and genuine and real. And i am thankful for getting out of bed this morning.. whatever made me do it, and i know you were there again... darker mornings, later nights.. i don't know what led me to this, or how this even happened.
But it's out there now, in the cyber world. all textical and surreal.
Like the man in the mop hair once said; surreal but nice.
thank you, i looked back, and nothing .. NOTHING looked appetizing..if anything i smiled, i wanted to move the other way. And fuck it, it's all happening.