Thursday, September 16, 2004

Good Ol' Jonathan

"Ya know I just read some writers now,
From the old days,
Because I knew, I knew they'd understand,
Because dignity
and tenderness
Should apply (They could apply)
To modern Romance"

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

5 to 12. 5 to write.

That wave is back. I'm sitting in my computer room, the same glow, the same cold metal chair. Surrounded by loved ones, the respected, and yet in my typically teenage fashion I feel so alone. From beginning to end this day has brought forth not only sunlight and pretty girls but a sad veil of something I would love to, but never really be able to describe. Instead I'll listen to sad music and type my heart out with these 20 year old hands.

I always thought the past would be something I would think about when I was older. Instead I worry daily that I won't ever live up to the moments, my moments that help define my idea of a good life.

I've lost confidence, I've lost sight. These days I've lost so much more than just sleep.

One being the ability to form proper sentences.


I simply like to watch myself exist

As far as school is concerned, well, lets just say I’ve never been concerned with it. Actually to be totally honest, in my last 4 years of high school I can’t recall doing one piece of homework. Not one. Of course this was very much reflected in my marks and after an especially dramatic discussion with my parents (“You can’t make me go back!”) I decided that a drastic life change was in order.

I was sitting in a history class, that fateful day, staring in disbelief at a now notorious clock that was either broken or somehow part of a thoroughly upsetting practical joke. (I’ve ruled out possession due to the lack of pure evil felt in the room. It wasn’t pure enough.). After a minute had elapsed (Which I still maintain took more than an hour) the hand would move forward two minutes and pause. I would hold my breath. This was it; this was the day that everything was going to go my way. I felt strong, Stronger than before. I thought I just might do it. That minute was mine.

Staring down the clock, it was just he and I. I shivered as a surge of adrenaline (or boredom, something like that) rocked my body. The teacher was talking to somebody but I had nothing left to give it attention, besides, surely the teacher would understand that this clock and I were locked in a mental battle for nothing less than time itself!. History! Ha! THIS was history! Move over Nostradamus, I have a minute to save! Alright clock prepare to…


It thundered through the room. The hand moved, as always, back one minute, back into place. The dream was over. As I collapsed on my desk, eyes brimming from the agony of constant and relentless defeat, a realization swept over me. Some things are meant to be. Time, the hands on the clock, and a paper airplane, they were all moving forward, and always would be. I however was lost and left alone. Change was needed and fast. I couldn’t stand another minute with that clock. It was either he or I, and as the clock was in no position to leave, I decided right then and there that this was the day I was going to do something with my life. I decided to drop out.

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