March 26, 2004

Errata?

And I'm losing all these stupid games
That I swore I'd never play
And it almost feels ok
- The Weakerthans

Don't you hate it when you turn the thermostat up, and feel even colder? When you go to bed earlier, and sleep in even later? When you make the music play louder, and you still drown in the silence?

Don't you hate it when you have so much to say, and you say so little? When you try to be more honest, and you end up feeling more fake? When you tell yourself to forget, and you remember all the more?

Don't you hate it when you throw your penny in, and the only wish you can think of wishing for is that you would stop wishing for the wish you wish you didn't wish for?

I sat there for a while; sat there watching the water flow by. I sat there for a while; sat there watching the pennies sparkle under the morning sun. I sat there for a while; sat there thinking about all the people who had come before-- all the people who had wishes and hopes and dreams of their own.

I remember them. I remember them all. I remember those who wanted "Til Death Do Us Part." I remember those who wanted "Tonight Is All We Have." I remember those who wanted "Until Something Better Comes Along." I remember them, and all that they meant to me, and all that I didn't mean to them.

Harder, I think, than making It work, is making it work After It. Maybe this isn't helping; maybe, even, it's hurting. Maybe I should stop. Maybe I should relocate. Maybe I should add "deny from 140.192. / deny from 209.86." to .htaccess.

I want so much for this to be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And it is, and it isn't, and it is. I want so much for this to be a relic, a memory, a thing long since past. And it isn't, and it is, and it isn't. I want so much to be able to skip ahead, and read the last page-- the last page that I'm never able to write... that I can't write.

I don't know what it is that I do, what it is about me that is so bad. I don't know why I can't figure it out, and why I can't think that maybe it's not me. I don't know how people can care so little, how they can leave me so easily and so completely.

I wish someone would whisper in my ear, "Everything's ok." I wish someone would whisper in my ear, "Isn't this stream lovely?" I wish someone would whisper in my ear, "In the end, you're not too bad."

I wish there were whispers in my ear, sentiments in my heart, dreams in my head. I sat, listening to the gentle splash as I tossed another penny in, wishing.

Posted by Sean at March 26, 2004 12:24 AM

Comments

Posted by: celina at March 26, 2004 02:36 PM

Posted by: Sean at March 27, 2004 02:34 AM