Red and blue lighting up the night sky, the wet pavement glistening after the midnight showers cleansed the oily blackness that lay under this hasty chariot. It’s a celebration outside as the wailing of the crowds penetrate the thin walls protecting me, my passion is evident to all those around me as it drips out like a leaky faucet that just won’t quit. They said that red is the color of passion, or at least it invokes it, but at this moment all that’s on my mind is this: my past and future collided.
Sometimes we feel helpless as we watch from afar, we want to take care of those we care for and want to support those we do not. Lying there silently as the burdens of the strangers of the night swoon and swirl against the ear, the cuts are too deep and it seems that this craving is none other than the insatiable desire to simply return to from whence one came. I cannot. It is never that simple, I am here because of my own doing, I found the bumper that I chased for so long and it wasn’t as shiny as others made it out to be. I always fancied myself as a burier anyways. No matter.
The voices sound like they’re coming through a fog, but damned if it isn’t clear as a perfect day. It’s warm, but I feel cold, an awkward temperature I’m used to, like sticking one leg out from under the blanket to manage my resting body. I feel so tired but there’s no time to rest, I’ve got somewhere to be. It wasn’t an accident that I ended up where I am now, it’s my fault, I split hairs and exposed a mental state I wasn’t quite prepared to show. I love you all, I hope you knew. It’s so beautiful outside, I’ve always loved the night-time, especially after the rain — it’s cleansing. I can feel the raindrops falling down the sides of my head, eyes closed pondering the possibilities I look forward to seeing; my dreams.
I was looking for change, reaching out for love and hoping someone would find me. I wore my Sunday’s best, so my sports team slippers and sweat pants with holes in them. This v-shaped mark was not meant to be a message, a note was not left because regret was left at the door, I merely wanted to be wanted. I needed for so long, kept my arms outstretched in case anyone was willing to grab hold, but it was always a Monday. My Wednesday’s felt empty. So sleepy. This nonsense needed to stop, my dreams were beginning to appear unrealistic, it was never supposed to be this way, but then again I’m not really certain what it is supposed to be like. If what has happened is any indication, then this merry moment of color and glee is par for the course, or maybe the just the course. My path, destiny, purpose or direction. Just another Monday, like any other except hanging in there was never an option, only a mark.
You know how at times it feels like time is slowing? Like your whole body is moving but your mind is stuck in the moment? That’s how this feels. The warm feeling I had has now turned to chilly and the more that I think about it, I am beginning to question the ghostly concerns of a life I may never have had. I took ownership of everything that bothered me, displayed my pains for the world in a place few would look, told everyone something but never everything. No wonder the lights are everywhere, I was tired of “You’ll tide, cheer up” and now I am wanted. I can hear it now, “Stay with me!”. It’s good to be loved, or at least feel like someone cares in that specific way I can only get from them. It’s fantastic. It’s wonderful. It’s…exhausting. I’m tired.
The squealing has stopped, the metallic Christmas sleigh has delivered the gift of hope. I’m starting over, in a sterile environment maybe I can finally become what I was hoping to be. While very few things are contagious in this bright establishment, I feel cared for. A building where time seems to stand still and codes are not meant for cheats, the beeping is speaking to me and it’s telling me to sleep. This mark is only a mark, a Wednesday is only a Wednesday, but I love it all because of the rainbows.