The Clock Ticks Slowly

I still wasn't over you when I walked out those doors. It really is dawning on me, now, in my bed, in the dark. That today, this day, would be the last I would see you. I'll look for you in everyone I meet, it's a curse and a promise.

And I care so much when I write but suddenly i didn't care at the highschool when no one else would yell the cheers louder than me and I didn't care suddenly in the store joking loud with my sister and I didn't care when people thought i was weird because i hang out in the corner and wear dark clothes and makeup and like what I like and I don't care

lately i've been really grappling with the pain of not being able to do everything. of growing older and letting the window of time in which i COULD have done something lapse. i can no longer have started something before the age of 19. i can no longer claim to have loved something i start loving now since childhood. i can't dance for my career for the rest of my life, i have to choose whether i give up being a stem major for the rest of my life within the next two weeks, i am long past the point at which i could have done anything but the things i am currently involved in for all four years of college. i'm terrified that if i go back to things i used to do i wont be as good at them as i used to be. the time for that would have been the second i left. how different my life would have looked!! would i still have lived with the people i do now?? would i still have done the things i did this year? i'm grieving my inability to have a foot in the door of timelines i'm not in, of only having the feet i can stand on in this one. i don't know how to let an opportunity get by me. i cling to as many as i can get my hands on despite knowing i would enjoy each more if i spent less effort clinging to the lot; i mourn each that squirms its way out of my desperate grip, grieving one less egg in my nest. when i am gone what will remain??? what legacy will i leave behind???? i won't know; i'll be dead. so all that i can do is gather as much of life as i can in my grip, and every inch of it that escapes me is a little death of its own. HOW DO YOU COPE.

(may 18???)

She placebo on my effect til I feel like something happened

"to smithereens" is one of the worst things to be blown to. right up there with weezer

And the fleeting feeling I get from writing what's on my mind getting it out like a cleanse like I'm vomiting up all the bottled up things I wanted to say to you after being sick for so so long the coldness of your embrace or rather your lack thereof one will fade with the warm summer weather and the flowers blooming in my grandmother's backyard the wrinkles on her hands remind me of the passing time I'll never see the wrinkles on your hands someone else will I'll never see the ring on your hand but I hope it's glistening like the light in your eyes when you mention music

Hell yea

you never remembered much about your early youth. most of your "memories" were jumbled fragments of random places and events that never even happened; yet you always seemed to dream about them. it was as if your whole existence from ages 1-4 was a never-ending, senseless dream that you continued to have flashbacks of even as you got older.

it all started with this one specific place. a place you felt like you remembered so well, but knew deep down it never could've existed; a place so close, yet so far. it was a giant waterpark that you swore you frequented as a young kid. it gave you such a euphoric feeling that you'd never felt before. such a nostalgia for a place that never even existed. it had 5 main watersides that now looked disheveled and abandoned, unnaturally large fake play houses used as swimming pools and bars, multiple pools, and an underground youth swim area with seemingly endless winding halls of tiles that enveloped every area from top to bottom.

you remember the time of day; twilight. the sky gleaming a beautiful neon pink and deep blue as the rest of the world was engulfed in darkness. you were there all alone after closing with only a flashlight to help guide the way. you came prepared to swim in your swimsuit, yet all the pools lacked any water. this didn't make sense though, the last time you checked, it was the middle of the summer, and you had just been there just a week prior. nonetheless, you still slowly inch your way around the park despite your gut telling you to just go home as you really had nothing to do.

as you're wondering what to do or where to go next, you suddenly notice the signs. so. many. signs. all claiming the same thing: "Waterpark now closed for good due to multiple reports of children going missing." you're taken aback; since when was this an issue? after pondering these signs for a bit, you realize that you aren't supposed to be there. you don't know what made you think going to a waterpark at this time was reasonable in the first place, but now, due to the endless array of alarming signs, you know that you are not welcome in the slightest. however, as soon as you make up your mind in the midst of this chaos, the continuous sounds of cars completely disappear; the little amount of streetlight that was helping illuminate your journey was gone, and the noise of the forest surrounding you was nonexistent. you freeze in fear, knowing that what you got yourself into was not safe and likely otherworldly.

"In a small cafe at a location so remote it stands in the middle of the middle of nowhere, John - a man in a hurry - is at a crossroads. Intent only on refueling before moving along on his road trip, he finds sustenance of an entirely different kind. In addition to the specials of the day, the cafe menu lists the questions all diners are encouraged to consider:

Why are you here?

Do you fear death?

Are you fulfilled?"