Tuesday, July 31, 2012

I'll probably read this tomorrow and wonder why I would ever post it for public scrutiny.

This is me sharing some of the stuff I spend hours writing at night. Hope it's worth the dark circles and unattractive bags I wear to work the next day.


Their thoughts connect at night when there’s nothing left to distract them from the vacant feeling they’ve become in one another. Habitually, he watches his life play out in photos he’s not in; completely unable to realize that she’s simply compensating for a dull haze that’s prevented her from truly living in those moments. She stands smiling for the camera and it’s forever documented, but it’s a posed reality that doesn’t transcend beyond the seconds it took to snap the picture.

This is while she nurtures a masochistic tendency that involves weaving elaborate stories for his social escapades. Ultimately, it only serves to encourage her suspicions of his emotional flippancy. And it’s an indifferent nature that doesn’t really exist outside of her analytical mind--she could never know the painstaking and deliberate attempts he makes at shoving her from memory. Or how it’s a difficult and unresolved task.

Often, they both close their eyes at the same time not realizing the synchronicity of their behavior. And they could go on like this forever. Living separate lives in separate spaces, only coming together at night to unconsciously indulge in an ignorance fueled by fear and insecurity.

Around 3 AM, she’ll close her eyes and try to sleep but instead she imagines an uncomplicated place where words are said out loud. She allows herself the fleeting image of what they look like without their baggage stacked between them. It’s someplace special that doesn’t flutter away at the tremble of her eyelid.

His thoughts will draw a line to hers and without them possibly knowing, they’re both existing together without complexity. Their thoughts parallel to one another, they are momentarily complete in their separate reveries.

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