We formed a band today. It’s me on guitar and vocals, J on guitar, vocals, and ukalele, Missy on shaker, and Trish on drums. I had a blast jamming it out with everyone.
All I hear in this moment is the sound of the keypads, tapped upon by the tips of my fingers. The harsh scrap of breath touches my consciousness, and I remember the friends who are curled up in bed, sound asleep behind me.
An afternoon of idle chatter, wondering what life will bring us tomorrow. Hushed conversations about the future, an annoyance, a person, and moment. I stride steadily through this building, remembering how I sauntered in my trench coat at 25 years old. These halls are the same, but I’m not. The faces are different, but I’ve stayed the same.
I never expected to feel this way about people.
The clutter I made around me is infuriating. What I’d give to have a magic wand to organize my worries away.
A short conversation ends with questions. Do you like this funny friendship that we have? Am I speaking too bluntly for your taste? Shall I amend the zing of my words to be palatable to you? I’m not going to change my opinion just because it makes you uncomfortable.
I feel excited when I see the blackened sky, sketched out before me by charcoal pencil. To the East is frightening darkness that is soft at the edges. To the West is an off-white sky, painfully brilliant to the eyes. These halves of the same coin rush together in a single point, and today I felt it was me.