the greatest thing

My head hurts. Tedium sets in as days dissolve and months drift quite unnoticed. Perhaps the years would care to stay, but they, yes even they abscond, frightened of being found out. We run the risk my sweetheart told me (beside a lake, or a stream, or a mere puddle) of wanting what we don't know. I slip silently into the day, a little rougher around the jaw, a little more jaded in the eye. I revert to faux-contentment, for what I lack in comfort I make up in routine.


Never settle we declared. A promise imbued by youth, encouraged by the single, arrogant notion that it was the world which owed us something and not the other way around. So we skirted on dreams for a little while, making our fair share of mistakes along the way. A life isn't worth living if you don't mess some parts of it up eh? was the adolescent rationale.


And now, now I feel myself growing up - actively, rapidly, scarily. I see you through my eyes and my eyes alone. I wonder about your thoughts, how similar they may be to mine and how long they'll stay that way. I envision your future - your loves, your thoughts, your face - and that alternates from filling me with a resplendent warmth to feeling a little fucking weird.


I dream in vagaries. Perhaps I want only to dream in vagaries.


We exist in the lives of others. And I am certainly not my own.