July 27, 2005
Into the West
Is this what life is? Eating dinner alone in the kitchen while everyone else takes their plate to go. Hearing the secret of one and not wanting to be mad, and not wanting to talk to the other and always being mad. Is it knowing home isn't as bad as I deem it, but coiling to escape? Saying one thing, feeling another. But in the shadows hope lingers. It nags, refusing to be extinguished until you let it grow, nurturing the spark into a flame.
You watch the world, the good things, and push envy aside. You think, one day...
Hope is waking in the morning and looking to the western wall of the bedroom because to the east of the room is a window and you left the curtain open. You left the curtain open so that when the sun rises, it will spill its new light on that western wall and you'll see the beauty of it. The light points to the west, and to the west, with the setting sun, is the future.
"Sometimes I just don't make sense."
scullerymaid at 7:13 p.m.