Laughing so hard you couldnt breathe until the door opened, then your glass was immediately filled, your choice of any ciggarette, your music being played. Walking, yelling down the hallway late at night, drunks falling on you while the flash of a camera was in your face. On the outside, before you got too deep, it was a beautiful place, an escape for me, if you will. We shared stories, drinks, and ciggarettes. I didnt find that at school, and I certainly can't find that in this town, but then I looked down at my book, looked at the title, and remembered that it was just a group of subterraneans. They were interested in things I had to say. I loved that they loved me, I loved that they HEARD me. I would become way too excited looking towards the weekends, not knowing what the hell we'd be getting into for those three days I spent there. It was quite a bizarre feeling, that feeling of excitement and independence I used to feel when I would go in there. It looked the same as the station I used to leave from in Atlanta, and I even had two bags with me. I got SO confused, because for some reason, I thought I was at marta.
Today as I was traveling home on my city adventure, (I would normally be in the city tonite, but do to a lack of soul for comfort, I had to come home) I abruptly woke up from the half sleeping day dream I was having about a particular drummer, at the White Plains station. "I want to dig them as a group." - Jack K. "They are hip without being slick, they are intelligent without being corny, they are intellectual as hell and know all about the Pound without being pretentious or talking too much about it, they are very quiet, they are very Christlike." -quoted by a friend of Jack K. Escape the surface and go deeper, into your mind, into your blank pages. To anyone who is living in the twilight, entering the darkness, write. I believe that writing or art, or ANY outlet in the world (thats healthy) will save you from the despairing pessimism that eats so many of our minds.
Those of us who tend to lean towards the negative and feel as though we have no outlet, we HAVE to help them find an outlet. How did it happen that I grew up getting less decent? It makes me mad, yes, but I suppose it makes me who I am.Īnyway, seeing this beautiful soul today made me realize something. Listening to my long lost friends turmoils, and reciprocating with my own, then watching the kids running and laughing and being joyful and happy and knowing that their biggest care in the world was whether or not they were going to be allowed to have desert that night. But as I was sitting in the sun today for hours and hours, I felt the repercussions of growing up.
The amount of excitement I felt knowing she was going through something just as similar as I am is probably quite unhealthy.
How amazing it felt to see a girl living in this town who was just as dark and depressing as I am is unbelievable. Today when I took the little girls that i nanny to the pool, I had a very interesting encounter with a girl that I was very tight with in my early years of highschool. All I can think about is how lonely I feel right now, how much I'm dying to have things be okay. I had so much I wanted to write about today, but as I sit on the couch thinking about anything and everything that makes me miserable, it's hard to put the better part of my mind in words. Worst feeling in the entire world = feeling uninspired.
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