slavery for starlight.

I don’t want to forget the starlight.  But each day my attention is soaked into a digital frenzy of words, sounds, deadlines and images that I am not likely to escape again until the appropriate hour strikes and allows me to leave.

We are all chained to the intellectual work machine.  And for many of us the world is derived of disjointed, cluttered highways, unfriendly lights, and the loss of time.  Time is always being siphoned from us in exchange for the coveted resource of the United States green.

And how we become entirely possessed by the pursuit of this green.  Freedom is scarce but for the paper ticket we chase and die for.  They say the green doesn’t make you happy, but how do we live when we are slaves to how much of it we spent, telling ourselves if we could afford this, then one day we’d have the time to gaze at the starlight.

Slaving away for the hopeless dream of wishing on stars we’ll never see.



Our love was the kind that couldn’t be saved from destruction.

Your eyes always burned through the crowd, shattering my atmosphere.  We came together with an urgency that violated speed restrictions.  You told me “Nobody” and “Nothing” and “No one else” as our lips crashed into the surfaces of each other.

And in the wake of our violent beginning, the end came slowly, and silently—

Long after the ground cracked, the world quaked, and the dust settled.  Like an empire, we were never built to last.  The girls and boys of tomorrow will kick at the dust of our ruins, wondering and guessing about the the monumental scar that remains.

dinner for two.

Put the fork down and leave your regrets on the table.
We will not consume them alongside the irritated flicker of candlelight.
We will not justify and correct and shape up our versions of history.

With our country resentfully divided, I lay this treaty upon the borderline:
We were only confused.  We were only mistaken.
We were only hopeful.  We were only in love.
We were only human.

a messy, windy road.

I always knew I’d be back here.  Writing again.  I suppose it’s fate, or destiny.  Or habit even.  Though I resist, and tug and pull and try different things, I always come back to the blank page.  But the page has been empty for a while.  I’ve abandoned tens of blogs and journals.  Only to come back.  A fresh start.

I guess some of us need to travel down different pathways only to come back to the main road again.  And this is my road.  Always has been.  It’s difficult.  Easy to get sidetracked.  Easier still, to become trapped.  Hardest to escape.  Hardest to come back to what feels like I was supposed to be doing the whole time.

Maybe that’s shame.  Maybe that’s regret.  Maybe it’s me not wanting to admit I made mistakes.  Maybe it’s me trying to find reasons for why I keep going in circles and circles, and never am I getting anywhere.  A hamster stuck on this wheel.  In life.  But there came a day recently where I realized I didn’t want to do it anymore.  I didn’t want to die.  But I didn’t want to live anymore either.  What do you do when you’re that stuck?

What do you do when you’re so lost?  When you’re so used to being lost that… you’ve given up finding a way out?  So what if I failed?  So what if I took this long road that was meant to please and make others happy at the expense of myself.  Was any of it worth anything?  What did I learn?

I suppose I learned a lot by comparison.  I watched others fail.  Watched others reach for the stars.  I rooted and cheered them on.  I wondered when I’d find my own star to reach for.  And many paths and many stars I felt envious of.  I felt the pressure of needing to follow them as well.  But none were really, exactly the one.  None of them were really mine.  That was a denial I lived in for a decade.  I became so lost trying to be like all of you, to be the kind of girl you wanted… that I forgot who I really was.

I guess that’s what the road does.  It takes you by the hand.  It shoves you.  It teaches you.  Sometimes it teaches you falsehoods that you begin to adopt as law.  But that’s when you figure out you’ve been traveling someone else’s road all along.  Always.  Always someone else’s path, I’ve been tagging along on.  So I resisted, I became rebellious, resentful, angry even.  This isn’t my road.

This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

So I came back here to start again, from the beginning.  I traveled a long way down many roads that were never mine.  But maybe for a lot of us, that becomes our path in life for a while.  You can never be found… if you were never lost in the first place.