One’s life is never the way they perceive it to be. One can attempt to become contempt with what it actually is, but more often than not, making a life through hopeful envisions is like painting dreams and nightmares on canvas. Simplicity is always accompanied by a high priced tag. We all have the keys, but we have absolutely no idea where the locks are. That is the essence of youth.
I just recently moved into a new apartment on the second floor in lovely Pasadena. I love heights. I never understood why, but I had always loved the feeling of looking down at passersby like they were ants. God must feel that way too, and that’s probably why he can kill us like ants.
I live in the city where there’s never a dull moment. Preferably Pasadena over LA because there’s less bullshit here. Even smoking is banned on the streets. My insomnia pairs well with the city too. I don’t avoid sleep because I fear dreams or death or any of that fanciful extravagance, I just avoid sleep simply to extract more out of every single day of my life. The price I pay is two raccooned eyes, but that does everything but discourage my plight of night. If put on a green velvet gambling table, who wouldn’t want to finish that extra chapter in the book, or catch the last musical guest or comedian on latenight television, or spend two more minutes talking about daydreams and smiling with the person they love. Or D. All the above. Now that I live in a new apartment with fewer rules, I had presumed I’d feel a sense of change or a purge of pettiness, or feel aged, or gain wisdom. I feel nothing. No changes.
This confirms two things. That the pleasures of life truly are best tasted with your lover. Winds of change are like elaborate meals the two of you cooked and shared with close ones. The second confirmation; I’m more lonesome than I had been privy to. I hadn’t missed my parents once, nor brother, nor sister, nor neighborhood, I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to admit this but ive never been close to anything. I also don’t like to admit I’m a real bastard. Not that I go out looking for puppies to punch or kittens to kick, but that my heart has never had a string of love attached to it. Everything fell into my lap, the sweet and the sour, and I’ve taken the sweeter things in life for granted. Have you? Pink moon. The skies brightly striped blue and white and I didn’t care to take a look or a cellphone picture. The only thing I’ve ever held close like I should have with love was my sorrow. There’s a party going on in the living room and somehow I feel at ease looking at the stairs that go downward outside. Goodnight moon, really?
I fell in love once and she loved me back dearly. We were the same scarred soul, but who in their right mind would love a thing like me? Since I’ve never been loved proper, where and how would I even begin to give it back? Simplicity is ALWAYS accompanied by a high priced tag. And now she’s looking for new love in a despicable and foolishly promiscuous way. I can already foreshadow how that ship will crash and burn, but that’s her decision, she needs to grow and meet the people who will destroy her. That’s how we’ll all meet our own destruction, at the hands of our loved ones, except, I would have conditioned hers with TLC, because I’m a gentleman. That’s how well I can love a person, is to drive them into insanity. “Just stop lying,” I’d always say, but I’d known her so well that she didn’t even have to speak anymore. In fact, that girl i fell in love with never even existed. Must’ve fabricated her out of my loneliness.
But people aren’t ants, Buddy. Is that blasphemous? I’m a very lucky son of an ant, and I’ve paid my karmic dues beyond hughmane levels of comprehension, and its time to start appreciating the sweets. Tender loving care needs to be earned, you don’t get it by thinking you deserve it. My eye said I never deserved it, but I’m going to prove it wrong, before I end up “Nick Drake’d.” And as for that one moment of love I briefly grazed upon, as I said, who in their right mind… I’m glad I was lucky enough to feel that at least once. But its just not my cup o’tea. Love will sleep before I do.