Listening to Van Morrison and relaxing on the sofa in my bright living room. Dreaming, thinking, wishing, for a different life. But is that what I really want? Believe it or not, I'm happy - with who I am, with my life, my friends. I get scared. Alright, I get petrified... not able to move stuck in my shoes petrified. But as someone said to me tonight, "If we're not a little scared, we are not living just existing." He's right which just makes it more frustrating.
It's quiet here. No cars splashing down the street. No children's voices floating in through the windows. Almost like it's snowing and there's a blanket covering the world with white softness that muffles all the shouting fears in my head and heart. It's comforting and relaxing while I drift and dream of the quiet surety in his words. Neil Young is singing about the damage done and I know I fit into his world.
I sent him a song in a language he doesn't understand. Easier that way. How can someone be so sure?
I'm tired and ready to fall asleep reading his words and The Band telling me to hand my troubles over.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment