The rare occasion of my typing out my journal, rambling thoughts and all:
I just rode to the library to renew my books...after--just as I did yesterday--falling asleep for 2 hours when I was supposed to tackle my massive amounts of summer reading.
On the ride back, "42" (Live Version) came on...and something about the intensity of the music, the screams from the audience, and the dreary--yet peaceful--feeling of the weather/air...along with my own...unknown emotions all made my eyes water. I'm now sitting on the top part of the bench on the center of the bluff path where I sat back on that one day in April. I'm watching the lights. the cars on Lincoln and Jefferson. A gray sky. Everywhere. Except it's covering a clear, white, slightly pinkish part on the left. This view is familiar to me. Just to my right is the other bluff trail in front of the university. I realize something..it's divided.
One half is right by my mom's; the other, right by my dad's. Symbolic of my own life in a very accurate, strange way.
It's all one.
But split down the middle by the opposing streets,
the quick speeds moving in two separate directions.
yet, if it weren't for this one split, it would remain one.
it is still one. just divided. so similar...yet so faraway.
I don't even know what I mean exactly or where I'm going with this.
I do know that the watering in my eyes won't go away.
The tears are there. my eyes are wet. I feel them. damp on my eyelids...brewing..but not..spilling forth.
Why won't they? I want them to.
They're stuck there.
My heart is aching...but for some reason, it's different than usual. I'm not even sure why.
It's gotten darker now. Several joggers have rushed past me. A woman with her dog. A boisterous man on his cell-phone. The sky stays completely gray, except for the horizontal sliver that has turned even pinker.
A couple walks by, holding hands.
I'm still here.
Except for the music in my ears, flowing through my veins.
in my heart.
The city is lit up. This is more apparent now with the darkening sky. Someone in the house faraway to my left has just flicked off a light.
I don't want to move. or go home right now. I want to stay here. Everyone else keeps moving by; they're not stopping.
Again, I remain.
I don't know what to do.
I'll stay here a bit longer and then ride up to the corner of my street and stare through the fence.