It's a beautiful night out right now. The moon is bright, and very very white, which causes the clouds to adopt a pinkish-hue.
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My dryer doesn't work right. It heats things up, but it doesn't get them dry. Some mildew appeared on my jeans, and it yet again caused me to question our existence. In this primordial soup, which is composed of heated water, cotton, and detergent, life was created, and it's so simple. We could all be the mildew on someone else's jeans in their faulty dryer. It's absurd to question it. Yet, the mind will wander.
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I know if I drove past Merry Street Park, I'd cry. My dad, my brother, and I used to go there when I was young. We'd play basketball and such. I remember the tattered net on the basketball goal, the shine of the sun down on us, the smell of grass and sweat, climbing up the medal slide, riding on the old steel merry go round. It'd be us there, in our own happy universe of unending bliss; and I wish I could go back, so much. To hear the songs of the cicadas, to see our smiles, to laugh, to be young again and not strong enough to make the basketball go as high as the rim, to hear the acorns crackle underfoot. I wish now, so badly, that I could go back, that I could love every moment with all of my heart, love that time so much that I cried. That's one of my strongest desires right now. Fuck the war in the middle east, fuck people killing each other, and money, and bills, and material bullshit. I want to be in the park with my dad and my brother, to enjoy it so much you could see the light surrounding my body. I miss you childhood, and I want you back so badly, so badly.
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My dryer doesn't work right. It heats things up, but it doesn't get them dry. Some mildew appeared on my jeans, and it yet again caused me to question our existence. In this primordial soup, which is composed of heated water, cotton, and detergent, life was created, and it's so simple. We could all be the mildew on someone else's jeans in their faulty dryer. It's absurd to question it. Yet, the mind will wander.
--
I know if I drove past Merry Street Park, I'd cry. My dad, my brother, and I used to go there when I was young. We'd play basketball and such. I remember the tattered net on the basketball goal, the shine of the sun down on us, the smell of grass and sweat, climbing up the medal slide, riding on the old steel merry go round. It'd be us there, in our own happy universe of unending bliss; and I wish I could go back, so much. To hear the songs of the cicadas, to see our smiles, to laugh, to be young again and not strong enough to make the basketball go as high as the rim, to hear the acorns crackle underfoot. I wish now, so badly, that I could go back, that I could love every moment with all of my heart, love that time so much that I cried. That's one of my strongest desires right now. Fuck the war in the middle east, fuck people killing each other, and money, and bills, and material bullshit. I want to be in the park with my dad and my brother, to enjoy it so much you could see the light surrounding my body. I miss you childhood, and I want you back so badly, so badly.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
*sigh*
i remember it too, like light filling my body.
i wish i could have bottled some of that sunshine, put it in a jar that i could take out of a safe place and open up on days when the world is cold and unloving, feel its warmth surround me like butterflies and stars that make tickly fuzzy sounds in your ear. but still, even if i had it in a container i could really never be IN it again.
but vent_outlet was right when he said you'll probably be thinking the same thing about today 10 years from now.
such is the beauty of longing i guess. you always want what's out of reach.
hey novy, we've got almost the same taste in women. i couldn't decide between synnove and elara but i had to go with the space pirate.
you're such a good writer. i just want to crawl into your journal entries. i'm not sure what i would do there, but i would like to be a part of them nonetheless.
take this as the highest compliment possible because i've never felt that way about the writing of someone solid, someone who can talk back.
reading your writing, it's like i'm right there going "ha, yeah no shit huh?" because it's so parallel to things i think about and wonder, and i wondered often if i was the only one who thought those things. but i guess i'm not.
and you like video games and the tao of pooh and martial arts and underground hip hop.
thank you for existing. i bet you're cute, too.