I Write Stuff
I got lost today.
No, not lost in the usual sense. I mean, it's hard to get lost anyway if you've got no place to be any time soon, right?
Yeah. Felt my legs take off under me and there I went. Out the door and out the gate, through the parks, just couldn't wait. And as I walked, I got so hopelessly lost. Lost in the late-spring night, with only a few comforting streetlights, a couple of moths basking in their dull shine and a handful of faint stars to show the way. Lost in the way the sky hummed its tune of dark grays and soft blues, a sliver of dayglow quickly fading over on the horizon. Lost in the way the gravel skittered and crackled on the dry and dusty asphalt, only to be interrupted by a lone roar of a car or two. Lost in the way everything felt so still, wind strangely absent, and not a single leaf or branch daring to ruin that silence of movement.
A sea of streets and a forest of fences. I think houses are incredibly cute at night. The way the dark hugs their edges, rounds their corners into curves and covers their rooves with a blanket of shadows cast by treetops is almost like them being tucked in, waiting for a good night's sleep. Eyes shut by curtains, some still peeking out, shining dully from a few desklamps or nightlights. Creaking and groaning of wood and stone still giving signs of life, signs of a warm home. There are those houses, those poor unfortunate souls where you take one look at them and you can just feel the despair and sense of dread in them, be they abandoned or still lived in, but run-down and decrepit. Their yards overgrown, their walls chipped away by rain and snow, their fences rotten and split open. I wish those homes and the people in them nothing but the best, but it's much too painful to look at, so I lower my head and quickly move on. But things are how things are, and the branches of nearby fir trees offering a few friendly pats help forget these moments.
And the air around me, Christ, that air. Sweeter than honey and smoother than silk, to name only a few clichés. Those overwhelmingly nondescript, pleasantly breathtaking smells whirling around, here in a flash and gone in another. A pinch of pine here, a smidgeon of summer there, a grain of grass and a lungful of leaves - overtaken shortly by the sweat of asphalt, drops of fresh lacquer and single strands of smoke from fires long smothered. This syrupy cacophony I got lost in the most.
But just as soon as it had started, I found myself staring at my cracked front door with bits of bright red peeling off it, wearing a shirt one size too large, worn out jeans and a pair of tennis shoes from even before I was born. And considerably empty. Now that last part took me a while to find the correct words for, but empty is what I'd say fits perfectly. You see, this is always what happens right after I've successfully [i]un-lost[/i] myself. Because there's always something missing when it comes to getting lost - someone to get lost with. There were of course a few cats out and about, some being as nice to accompany me home. What makes an animal walk alongside a person they've never met is still a mystery to me, but I do appreciate it. It is nice after all, but after a few minutes we say our thanks and goodbyes and move on. And as thankful as I am, it just doesn't come close to taking a walk with, y'know, a human being and all that.
I love nights like these though. And getting lost. No matter what feeling I'm left with afterwards, the memory of not remembering those couple of hours spent drifting through quiet suburbs makes it all worthwhile. It's peaceful, you know. Almost silent enough to be completely alone with your thoughts, but not quite, breaking you out of your trance every once in a while, reminding you that you're still there, still breathing, still [b]living[/b].
I don't really know what I'm going for with this wall of text, I admit. There's so much to say but no reason to say it. Nobody to whisper comforting nothings to. I used to be a bit bitter about that, you know. Being alone. But recently, all I can do is smile and feel a sense of happiness every time I see someone, be they alone, paired up or in a group. Because I realize that to be lost sometimes, to be lonely, to belong, to be sad, to be happy, to see others experiencing those same emotions and letting out a few smiles along the way, experiencing life, feeling life going on around you and still having the chance to notice the finer details every once in a while - that makes me feel alive again. Makes me feel whole. Makes me feel [b]human[/b].
And that's enough for me.
I hope that's enough for you too, whoever's reading this. Have a wonderful rest of the night, and a great start to the summer or whatever season it might be.
No, not lost in the usual sense. I mean, it's hard to get lost anyway if you've got no place to be any time soon, right?
Yeah. Felt my legs take off under me and there I went. Out the door and out the gate, through the parks, just couldn't wait. And as I walked, I got so hopelessly lost. Lost in the late-spring night, with only a few comforting streetlights, a couple of moths basking in their dull shine and a handful of faint stars to show the way. Lost in the way the sky hummed its tune of dark grays and soft blues, a sliver of dayglow quickly fading over on the horizon. Lost in the way the gravel skittered and crackled on the dry and dusty asphalt, only to be interrupted by a lone roar of a car or two. Lost in the way everything felt so still, wind strangely absent, and not a single leaf or branch daring to ruin that silence of movement.
A sea of streets and a forest of fences. I think houses are incredibly cute at night. The way the dark hugs their edges, rounds their corners into curves and covers their rooves with a blanket of shadows cast by treetops is almost like them being tucked in, waiting for a good night's sleep. Eyes shut by curtains, some still peeking out, shining dully from a few desklamps or nightlights. Creaking and groaning of wood and stone still giving signs of life, signs of a warm home. There are those houses, those poor unfortunate souls where you take one look at them and you can just feel the despair and sense of dread in them, be they abandoned or still lived in, but run-down and decrepit. Their yards overgrown, their walls chipped away by rain and snow, their fences rotten and split open. I wish those homes and the people in them nothing but the best, but it's much too painful to look at, so I lower my head and quickly move on. But things are how things are, and the branches of nearby fir trees offering a few friendly pats help forget these moments.
And the air around me, Christ, that air. Sweeter than honey and smoother than silk, to name only a few clichés. Those overwhelmingly nondescript, pleasantly breathtaking smells whirling around, here in a flash and gone in another. A pinch of pine here, a smidgeon of summer there, a grain of grass and a lungful of leaves - overtaken shortly by the sweat of asphalt, drops of fresh lacquer and single strands of smoke from fires long smothered. This syrupy cacophony I got lost in the most.
But just as soon as it had started, I found myself staring at my cracked front door with bits of bright red peeling off it, wearing a shirt one size too large, worn out jeans and a pair of tennis shoes from even before I was born. And considerably empty. Now that last part took me a while to find the correct words for, but empty is what I'd say fits perfectly. You see, this is always what happens right after I've successfully [i]un-lost[/i] myself. Because there's always something missing when it comes to getting lost - someone to get lost with. There were of course a few cats out and about, some being as nice to accompany me home. What makes an animal walk alongside a person they've never met is still a mystery to me, but I do appreciate it. It is nice after all, but after a few minutes we say our thanks and goodbyes and move on. And as thankful as I am, it just doesn't come close to taking a walk with, y'know, a human being and all that.
I love nights like these though. And getting lost. No matter what feeling I'm left with afterwards, the memory of not remembering those couple of hours spent drifting through quiet suburbs makes it all worthwhile. It's peaceful, you know. Almost silent enough to be completely alone with your thoughts, but not quite, breaking you out of your trance every once in a while, reminding you that you're still there, still breathing, still [b]living[/b].
I don't really know what I'm going for with this wall of text, I admit. There's so much to say but no reason to say it. Nobody to whisper comforting nothings to. I used to be a bit bitter about that, you know. Being alone. But recently, all I can do is smile and feel a sense of happiness every time I see someone, be they alone, paired up or in a group. Because I realize that to be lost sometimes, to be lonely, to belong, to be sad, to be happy, to see others experiencing those same emotions and letting out a few smiles along the way, experiencing life, feeling life going on around you and still having the chance to notice the finer details every once in a while - that makes me feel alive again. Makes me feel whole. Makes me feel [b]human[/b].
And that's enough for me.
I hope that's enough for you too, whoever's reading this. Have a wonderful rest of the night, and a great start to the summer or whatever season it might be.
