Saturday, May 8, 2010

circus

Right now I have the heart of a six-year-old, I want to close my eyes and stomp my feet over and over again faster and faster, in hopes that it would take me out of here. Of course, this is all impossible, because as someone said tonight, we are "contingent" in our right-nows.

This limbo-like state, it’s not even the good kind. Not the kind where your heart pumps bass-like beats of a rock concert, the kind where you feel like you’re walking on a tightrope many feet off the ground. No, not that kind. This is more like a cloudy mess. Like a dance floor of a cheap prom with a fog machine.

This mess is so very unappetizing. Probably because the signs aren't pointing anywhere, because the situation doesn’t depend on me, yet. I feel like I'm getting all the right things from the wrong people. Maybe I just pick them badly, maybe I'm just bad at catching the right ones. In any case, why should this signing up process be so impenetrable? Shouldn’t it be the actual race that’s the hard part?

Raise the platform and tighten the rope, I’m ready to play.

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