10/20/10

sometimes, i wish it all would be the same.











(back when we thought we were invincible and we didn't take each other lightly).

you.

And I am fool
for not understanding
just how important the moment(s) were when they were being experienced.
The small times,
those small times.
Like...
driving your aunt's car and listening to mixes you made back in High School...
or.
like, having yard sales in the mornings with your mother, selling our things.
Or,
lying in bed with you.

If I have learned anything,
I have learned that I should never want more than I have.
Excess does not mean happiness (I should fucking know that).
If I will learn anything,
it will be that I am grateful for the present and for knowing and loving you.

j.

I don't want Jordyn to leave.
Ok, I mean I do want her to do this for herself but there is a tiny space floating somewhere that would be quite alright being selfish and having her here.
But if it really came down to it,
I would not want her to pass this up.

But as I was sitting down in the Starbucks by my work,
something sunk in.
Once she leaves, there will not be anything to look forward to when I come home.

Fuck.

48th st.

fuck. that house. there was a fence surrounding that house.

YOU DON'T HAVE A

big mouth.

26/21/18/11

this mid life crisis is really only a thesis, both end with "is" and "is" can only mean one real thing. there is no danger. this is exciting. this is the time when doors will be opening-not closing. everything can mean nothing or something-depending on how i look at it. and currently, i am tired of staring at the dreary. so, i will be a creator of sorts and rally odd thoughts on the past and futures and worry not. WORRY NOT.

wigs.

wigs. they were different colors, sometimes. and to think that she must have cared a whole lot to have her babies back that she would go through all of the trouble of buying a few wigs. i wonder what made her choose certain colors? i remember her hair has always been the color of Auburn. I remember wanting to dye my hair in order to match hers. I remember when I looked up to her. I remember when she was our hero. Ours. My brother and I. That's right. I have a younger brother but sometimes, i forget that he is not the elder. Older. Older than I. So, she bought wigs and became a disguise. All the while, I-never knowing-that she would forever be a disguise. Even to her own children. I know this now. 26, and now it finally hits me.