2001-05-13 | 3:04 a.m.

The majority of people go on living. They live their lives as if they all had the time. So much time. As if all the increments of time they misused were unlimited, and they had a vast supply. I always see people rushing past people, places, situations. I wonder if we all stop and look for at least one brief second, or minute or hour. If we pause and make sure to turn around and around in circles. Making sure that we grasp onto each detail. But I think for the majority of people we don't. We just whizz by like we are superman or supergirl and the people, deadlines, work, or anything else that meets us at the end is what's most important. How sad. How very fucking sad.

"But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can hear me

When I say softly, slowly

Hold me closer tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

you had a busy day today."

~ Elton John 'Tiny Dancer'

I want to tell a different story.

The story of a young woman fighting for what she thinks is right. fighting for herself or whatever she feels is left. She pushes and pulls at people and situations she places herself in and she wonders in the end if she is truly good enough. Sometimes she lays in bed awake and looks at the ceiling. She sees the white paint but usually she looks past that and imagines the dark sky at night with twinkling stars or the bluest sky of day, with fluffy white clouds forming shapes. She can lay like this for a while. Soft breeze from her window draping her body in a cool shrug. But then she pulls back and looks within and realizes that something is wrong.

That bolts are clanking inside of her like pebbles in an empty vessel. And I'm sure she has to tighten these bolts. To stand up straight. To walk with her head held high. But instead she shrivels a little and walks with her eyes to the floor or inside a book. She can't help the voices inside her head or the fact that she has odd dreams. Dreams of a Claus Von B�low coming to take her in the dead of night. Taking her to this big house with a large study full of books then allowing her to interview him. And ending up admitting he killed Sunny Von B�low. And she wonders if this is her conscious letting her know that slowly and unwillingly she is letting her child die. She is clamping down on every free spirit she had before. So she wakes up and looks around and settles back into bed realizing its a dream. And she wonders if it really is. If the sentence her dream gives her will come true. Or if she is just fighting the Gemini within her. If the reversal within her is fighting for the light or for the dark.

Into this night I wander

it's morning that I dread

another day of knowing of

the path I fear to tread

~ Sara McLachlan,'Possession'

The magic is in the making. That's what I have to assume. The air that I throw the fairy dust up in and walk through. The lip glossed pout kissing the glass. Time cannot be this bittersweet. Because it wastes away within other people that don't merit their existence in your emotional bag. They will always shrivel away and you will stay planted, like your feet are made of trees and they are rooted to the same spot. Except your not rooted to the same stop. Your evolving and moving and soon you will realize that you can bring it on and you will.

"Hold me closer tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

you had a busy day today."

~ Elton John 'Tiny Dancer'

Hold me closer little girl, hold me closer.



p r e v i o u s // n e x t