Shuttling down the road in a speeding car, the window open and my hair flying everywhere. Telling the driver to go a bit slow. The sun hidden behind the clouds. The first time I saw the sunlight coming through them and shining towards the heavens. Imogen Heap and slow jazz playing in my ears. The feeling of nearing paradise. Looking forward to another adventure.
Leaving the sounds, the taunts, the conversations, the bitching, the hate, the love, the world behind. Just a soul and its search for destiny. The body a seemingly annoying hitchhiker. Bonds to break, people to find, reasons to be. Coming back to Darwin. Is the purpose of being man only that to breathe? Do we deserve the sadness we bear? Do we deserve at all?
A cup of soup in hand. Warming it, because it needs to be hot. Cooling it, because I'll burn my tongue. Wondering where the angst went. Wondering what came in its place. Hating the world for its cruel injustice. Loving the world for the small beautiful mercies and miracles. Making alliterations. Making poems in my head. Accusations come back. Of course, the poem was mine. Being me. Wanting to be you. Insanely jealous of her. Insanely happy for him. Insane because of them. Enjoying the insanity. Real insane people humble you, after all.
A sweet, sweet awakening.
Figuring out how be somebody without leaving the nobody behind.
Looking, feeling, finding, letting go.
Knowing, cursing, accepting, understanding.
By Myself, Finally