»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
Where we end up
| Passions in Prose |
|
Where we end up |
|
|
MidnightSon Member
since 2002-05-15
Posts 312between the gutter & the stars |
*i was just goofing around and writing down jabber...* You know those stupid aphorisms that people say? About how we're all unique and different? "Well who's normal anyway? Who really *belongs* anywhere?" Well, that's all fine and dandy for people with self-esteem issues, but there is a place for you. A place where you know you belong. There's a connection, a feeling of being comfortable and safe. My safe place, the place that I know I belong, is Las Vegas. It is my *home*. It's not just because I used to live there and that I lived there longer than anywhere else I've lived, or because I know everybody there, or even because I have a strong affinity for strippers. It's my home because just being there instills that warm fuzzy feeling in me, like drinking apple cider in the wintertime. I feel the same about San Francisco, but I think that's because I had apple cider for the first time there. Although, Vegas could use an ocean like Frisco has. But that's beside the point. What is the point? What if home isn't just a place, but a time? The worst part is that I took all my time there for granted. Now I live elsewhere, and I waste all of my money on taking trips back to Vegas, chasing the Glory Days. Feeling that comfort all over again is as much a drug as anything. And I keep fighting so hard to have it back...but last summer I realized it's gone. People have changed. They've grown up, they've grown down. There's so many new faces in my old haunts. The bands are gone, the raves are few and far between, my friends have gone off to colleges, and our dealers are stuck in rehab. It makes me say, "Where'd the time go?", "Why can't I have it back?", and "Will I ever have that kind of comfort and freedom again?". I've always said that life's too short to waste on worry and regret. But I can't help regretting the best six years of my life. They could have been so much better. And I can't help worrying whether or not I'll ever have them again. It took a long time, but innocence is finally dead. Now that I'm dead, I'm not sure where to go. it's our struggle for identity that leaves us all unknown [This message has been edited by MidnightSon (06-14-2002 10:05 PM).] |
||
| © Copyright 2002 The Midnight Son - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
Feeling that comfort all over again is as much a drug as anything. And I keep fighting so hard to have it back... ====================================== No body who is "dead" writes with this much feeling...and knowing you...I KNOW you will be making memories for many more "glory days" Youre still finding your stride...time to fly my friend...learn from the regrets then let go..dont let them weigh down those wings.... heres another one of those "aphorisms" "It's not having what you want ... It's wanting what you've got" SC  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "To those gentle ones my memory runs To the laughter we shared at the meals I filled their kitchens and living rooms With my schemes and my broken wheels It was never clear how far or near The gates to my citadel lay They we're cutting from stone some dreams of their own But they listened to mine anyway I'm not sure what I'm trying to say It could be I've lost my way Though I keep a watch over the distance Heaven's no closer than it was yesterday And the angels are older They know not to wait up for the sun They look over my shoulder At the maps and the drawings of the journey I've begun Now the distance leads me farther on Though the reasons I once had are gone I keep thinking I'll find what I'm looking for In the sand beneath the dawn But the angels are older They can see that the sun's setting fast They look over my shoulder At the vision of paradise Contained in the light of the past And they lay down behind me To sleep beside the road 'til the morning has come Where they know they will find me With my maps and my faith in the distance Moving farther on........... Jackson Browne Farther On You ... You are still a whisper on my lips ... A feeling at my fingertips. DV [This message has been edited by Janet Marie (06-18-2002 10:45 AM).] |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
