Some days are weird, just like today.
I know a classmate of mine whose turned out to be so much prettier than she was in her childhood. I bought a magazine with her in the cover. I won’t bother to say hi to her because she wouldn’t recognise me. I know that she was once my best friend and I listened to her talk when she was broken as a kid. I know exactly who first told me what divorce meant. Later in life, I’ve come across many other stories of misery.
I’m on the outskirts now and I’m watching outside the window. In the distance I can see a peaceful city with plentiful shimmering lights. It reminds me of an another time, and an another place with someone who perhaps like my childhood best friend won’t remember the time we spent together.
I look into the darkness and I see the skies is a smudge of light from the city and the moon thats almost complete. There’s no dark side of the moon in the skies tonight. There’s no screeching of crickets or blowing of wind like in the afternoon. At night, everyone goes to sleep, but me and someone else.
I believe I have a strong subconsciousness. Somewhere deep inside we always think about the things we care. I could possibly tell you what I’m scared of, but there’s a lot things – many which I do not want to remind myself of. Like the people who have forgotten the moments, I wish I could forget my fears just as easily with time. Does anything even matter now?
I’ll probably spend the night wondering if today is the night I’ll start living. I’ve had some amount to drink and there’s someone else sleeping soundly next to me. It’s almost like every time I’m trying to forget things, I’m only reminding myself of it. It’s strange how easy it is to put into words what things I should do, but I’ll never be able to forget them. They’ll always be in the past, but these memories stay.
So I’m staring at the city looking at neon lights in red and blue wondering if someone’s gonna turn it out. It’s been quite some time and now I’m thinking who cares if I’m looking at it. Turning off the lights half way across midnight is nobody’s business because everyones asleep and it’s only me who’s overthinking. How I wish this sorrow of a wonderful memory would soon fade away.
I wonder what it’s like to walking in the middle of the streets under pale yellow lights like in the distance? No matter how busy it was at noon, no one is to be seen. The streets have a name, only in the morning. In the evening, it’s only a dimly lit dark road where drunk people sometimes pass through when they can’t find their way home.
I still wonder if all the people I’ve met and all the people remember my name. The answer is that they don’t. Nobody dreams about me and neither should I dream about anyone.
The nights are for sleeping.
Image by Tetsouya Nishida via @Flickr