Coffeehouse-December 2012

On my sixteenth birthday, I may have mixed it all up.

I say this because I went against every inspirationalist’s motto, when I spent the first quarter of it smiling because it happened, and the rest crying because it was over.

You could say I’m a bit pessimistic, but I like to think of it as a greater appreciation for the 365.

Three years and ten days ago exactly I wrote a poem about how someone had missed the play button when they set the tape up for my life

That’s easy to say when you’re a lonely eighth grader spending your Friday nights hoping for a boy to hold your hand, but really now I would give anything to be staring at those Christmas lights again. Because having so many Friday nights in your basket spent otherwise starts to get heavy, but not in a way that I cant carry them, only dripping with nostalgia, glaring headlights on foreign roads with foreign voices, laugh too loud and hush don’t go, crossing boundaries like the ts we used to try and tell exactly how we fit into this, this wide expanse of existence that just seems too damn small.

I put my palm against the glass and let it sit there, but it wasn’t quite winter and it wasn’t quite rain, so when the union was lost there was no sign I had ever tried to push right through I ended up with my fingers in my pockets, and that’s how we all end up. Thumb around for a while between the receipts and the loose change, maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for, but if what you’re looking for is time, then you won’t, because I’ve tried that too.

What I have found is that you can dig your heals in, swallow the last mouthful of liquor cabinet liquid courage lay your head on his shoulder while he takes you for one more circle around the bend it’s okay. 5 minutes won’t kill us, hit replay on that soundtrack one last time, at least we can count on this ticking clock. This clock is the only constant, I have watched the hands moving for three years and ten days and countless hours before that too, it’s mocking me baby, it knows it will always be around when you and you and you can’t be.  I’m not asking for that magic mirror on the wall, if forever is the fable that has always been stuck between the pages then let it be, if only for just one more season to blanket me on the coldest of nights. I think I might need it because I’ve always been more of a watch from the driveway type, why sit in the passenger seat if you only have eyes for the rearview mirror.

If you see me in three years, I hope you know I put the birthday candles away, I hope you see me setting back clocks on damp, poorly lit pavement with strangers.

I hope you know that we lost.

So for now,

Rolling credits cut copy and paste

If we don’t believe in reality then it will hit a little harder

I have the now to carry me over to the next life,

The then weighs heavy, I can’t hold it forever even so.

There will always be slow acoustic on a rainy day

I’ll never escape it, not with those clouds and this truth

For those who see the most beauty in hindsight

Well, it’s just the only way to feel.