Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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The one without a permanent scar

For just a moment I am feeling like myself and I don't know what to say about it. I've been exhausted the last few days and right now I'm near sleep, but not in the mindless stupor I've been in for a week or so, in a clear headed intelligent way. The universe feels so big right now and I feel so fucking alone. Like I could reach out forever into the sky and never ever touch a star.

It's strange since my last few days have been, for me, whirlwinds of social activity, but maybe it's about being around so many people who don't understand me. You know, being alone in a crowd and all that. I'm used to it by now, the concept that I drift through lives like a wraith, my touch leaving a cold imprint but never touching anything.

At least not anything real.

I'm sad right now, listening to a tearful singer and wondering where my life will go. It's registration time and autumn all at once. Leaves are falling off the trees and I have to make a few end moves before the serious work of my life begins and I'm commited to one field for at LEAST a couple years but with me it'll probably be longer.

Is it too late to mourn my surrendered childhood?

I miss you daddy.

The one thing that never changes. No matter what, whenever anything significant happens I feel his absence through my bones. I grow older but in so many ways I stay 12. There's only one person who can fill this age old ache in my chest and he's been dead too long, far too long.

It all comes back to that in the end with me. It all comes back to him and autumn days jumping into piles of leaves and dreaming of winter coming.

That is why I don't like feeling like myself, because when I am I can feel his absence so acutely that even tears don't wash away the hard edge of the pain.

That's the essence of my true self I think, at least right now. A little boy crying for his long last dad.

And I'm supposed to choose a major in college? I'm still waiting you callous sons of bitches. Waiting for someone who will never return.

It's cold outside. I wish I was there.
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