I take his hand, and he leads me unto the unknown.
Right past the colorful flowers and green pasture I have grown so used to.
Right past the swing that hangs from the oak tree.
Right through the monotony it becomes to live in a Country Club.
Rushing through it like a businessman who is late for an important meeting.
Rushing because life as I know it is too dull, too restrictive, too black or white.
But still… rushing. And I hold on tight.
I have no idea where we are headed, but the pasture is not angelically green.
It is dark. The dark that invites you to roll in it butt-naked,
to arch your back and let out a moan.
The sky is not azure. It is different shades of gray that makes everything beneath it look exotic.
The air is not as fresh. It is sultry. There’s something wicked about it.
Nevertheless, I hold his hand.
I trust his ways. I believe he knows better.
Picture taken from: Tanzdreamer
Through passing days and nights words come and go. Hearts are rebuilt and shattered. The wind blows on people’s face inspiring their mind, and inspiring poets with poems.
And somewhere along the perpetual symphony of the world singing in our ears with its many sounds we stop and listen. We stop and fear. We cease to believe. We cease to believe in magic and its alternate reality. Cease to believe in a world in which you can be whoever… whenever.
Suddenly the concrete structures around us seem taller than ever, the air is more polluted than ever. Our heart craves freedom more than ever.
But then the clock hits nine a.m. and we walk towards our cubicles, contemplating the hands of the clock as we walk by. Walking slowly towards a routine that slowly smothers who we really are inside.
On the first day of the rest of our lives.
I’m not sure if I should miss you. Not quite sure if you deserve it.
Well, I know you don’t deserve it.
But the part of me who keeps having faith in people thinks you do,
That there is ABSOLUTELY no way all those people were right about you.
No way they could’ve been right every time they called you “Fake”
everytime they told me you were not someone I should call my “Friend”
’cause you were a foe.
I should have known.
It brings me some sort of inner mysery that life didnt turn out like we wanted it to.
That it isn’t us three friends against the world, living, growing, and having fun.
Truthfully, it brings me sadness to know that all those years by your side were wasted.
That the you I though you were simply doesn’t exist.
And that practically everyone has the right to an “I told you so”.
It makes me mad they’re right about you.
I think i’m rambling because I have so many mixed feelings inside.
A part of me is sad, a part is nostalgic, a part of me is glad,
a part of me is peaceful. But most of all, a big part of me doesn’t want you back,
at all, Ever again.
I guess it’s hard to see how God has His ways of showing us who we should keep around,
who we can live without, and who simply brings us misery.
I guess All I have to do is stop putting you on a pedestal and seeing you for who you are.
and clearing up my perception of who you were,
because you were definitely not a “friend”.