Verbal warfare through radical ideals

Sleepless Again

Three A.M. comes again.

A glance over at the alarm clock reminds me once more of the inevitable surge of wasted moments, and opportunities gone astray. Evidently, not only am I not meant to find the purpose and passion I seek, I’m walking around in the dark; a blind messiah of ignorant aimlessness. It doesn’t matter where I set the target at. For some reason, it’s as if the colors run and blend in with everything else around it.

Scanning the heads of the crowd around, I know two things are true. Strangely enough, the contradictory nature of such an enigamtic absolute is both insulting and flattering to the mind. Undoubtedly, I’m in the right place. However two weeks in, I’m committting something immoral and unfaithful. Everything around me is practically the epitome of what I am looking for, and at the same time none of what I seek. In a sea of faces, the ebony facade of their exterior cannot be used as a fair gague for the character of those whom I now share space with. They are all clones from what I can tell, and it’s painfully obvious from my location that they’re all here for the same reason. Having this one thing in common, I have a rather indirect connection that could never be considered a fair catalyst for what I hope to maintain, but at this point I’m naive and hopeful.  The three advances I make are weak, made in vain hopelessness, and reap no benefits, let alone spark anything that makes me look anything other than an absolute tool. I leave that night, disappointed once more and utterly shattered in self-esteem terms. Not as if it mattered, I was taken anyways. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and now I’m back in reality. As I leave in my friend’s car, I catch the face of one of my “victims” grinning as she waves good-bye.

Sunset quickly approaches as I lean over my balcony. The view of the ocean presents not only a calming effect, but a somber mood. The one scenescape that could kill the anguish of a funeral, and I’m sitting pointlessly placed on a balcony 80 feet in the air. I turn to my door and head down to the elevator. Upon reaching ground floor, I’m met with the familiar faces of my peers all around me. A strange, alienating comfort sets in and I quickly stray from the group once more. As I approach the thin line of sand that stretches forever down the coast, the gulf is spread in front of me, a magnificent moving silhouette laying at the feet of a blazing inferno in the horizon. I quickly take a seat to watch the show, as birds swoop down to the waters edge almost in unison. As I glance to my side, my eye catches another viewer. She catches my gaze, and beckons me over to give company. I do so, and as I take a seat in the sand next to her voice resonates with a light warmth. She asks me why it is I chose to watch the sunset, as opposed to remaining inside where the festivities are taking place. I explain myself fully, and ask the same. She states, “because I’m not going to see this same picture ever again”.  We sit in silence, as the sun begins its descent, and the stars take shape in the sky. With solitude on our side, we embrace and part ways; an understanding that we have seen something together as perfect strangers that many people will never catch after spending decades with one another.

I glance at my phone once more for the time. I don’t even need to, as I start to come to the realization that I’ve been stood up. The time crawls by, and my anticipation slides from confused patience, to jaded animosity. I’m not attempting to waste their time, so why the fuck are they wasting mine? Good friends are hard to come by, and reliable friends are even harder to find. I sink into my comfortable chair at the bookstore and look around. I walk over to a nearby section, and grab James Clavell’s shogun. I begin to sift through it to one of my favorite chapters, and begin a stretch of undisturbed reading time. As I get lost in the drama of feudal Japan, I hear a voice through the wall of text saying “you have good taste”. The book comes crashing down into my lap, as I realize I’m now being complimented. My attention sways quickly as I engage the newcomer in conversation, both presenting inquiries and answering ones thrown at me in an attempt to challenge what little knowledge I have. Enjoyable minutes pass by as I try to figure out where I stand. However, the euphoria is short-lived as both she and I become surprised by the visitor over her shoulder. The slim, young male pats her on the shoulder, apologizes for making her wait and then stares coldly at me. He then picks up her book and jacket, and ushers her out of the sitting area. An uneasy form of animalistic apprehension takes form in that bookstore at that moment, as the two of them walk away. Envy, fury, and a sense of betrayal swarm 0ver me as I realize in that split second the opportunity being stripped from me. However I’m still young at this point, and at this point I’m a pacifist under the surface. It’s not worth it, and I am left to fume silently.

Light begins to stream through the slits in my curtain. I careen my head over to face my alarm clock. As I realize I’ve just blinked, I now stare down the bold sapphire “7:15” on the LCD screen. A rush of frustration and sheer irritation begins to claw its way up my spine, as I get out of bed. I walk into my living room, and stare out the sliding glass door to my back yard.  Rays of amber stream into my yard, illuminating my living room with its light. As I fall into the cushions of my couch, I keep concentration on the setting outside. Today I won’t let that opportunity pass me by. I’m done facing the opposite direction of possiblities. Tonight, I will not remain awake in remorse.

Strangely I find comfort here
Impatient and curious of what may come

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