Berlin, Germany
on the train again, and now it seems like this is the only time i actually find to write. there are these really nice spanish kids in my compartment with me, but at the same time they are really depressing me. i'm so tired of being alone, not just on this trip, but in life. i'm tired of the transient, impermanent nights that are punctuated only by regret. i wish i had someone to share my life with. yesterday at the hamburger bahnhof i had one of the lowest points of trip. unlike in copenhagen, this moment was inspired by a seemingly inane act, not a mounting, growing, inevitable breakdown. i was leaving the beuys exhibit to go upstairs to the rest of the collection and sitting on the stairs was this striking scene - a very attractive, thin, tattooed man (who reminded me a lot of cody)...a man out of my dizziest daydream, sitting with his wife and his daughter. nothing breaks my heart more than to see my ideal manifested right in front of my eyes.
i just had to take a break from writing, it was causing me to relive the moment and it was getting a bit overwhelming. i just lost myself for a moment in the passing landscapes until the monotony lulled me to sleep. as i started to close my eyes, however, the sun started to break from behind the passing trees and fields. i closed my eyes, despite the glare, and all i got were passing sun flares in my eyes learned i only see some memory but all i see is red small orange sunbursts that flash into my vision in frequent consistent intervals, constant flinches reminding me of the inevitable pain to come. my only choices were to either embrace the pain, or to open my eyes only to be blinded by the reality, or else to hesitantly avert my eyes right below the source, the blazing heat of this brilliant light, illuminating the days ahead of me. and what do i do? instead of choosing any of the above, i curtly excuse myself from this suffocating compartment to pace the halls and absorb the satisfying hiss of the opening doors between each new car
i swear it's different because i'm lonely. i can't stop listening to barcelona. there is something horribly haunting about them, but so poignant and beautiful. it is something about the pull between the sadness and allure of it all on the edge of night we look down. . . if we got back to start(stars) we won't need any money. what would it be like to be eighteen again? to just be worried about jim and alaric, moving away and resenting my family and direction in life, fretting about cymbal line, standardized tests and dorm shopping. yet, here are some eighteen year old kids from barcelona, living parallel lives halfway across the globe and they are traveling the world, or at least germany. i wish i had that. i really think i need to come to europe, at least after my post-bacc program. maybe do my masters in the uk? i don't know. i know it is just another excuse to run away and shirk off responsibilities, social or otherwise, break ties without goodbyes, it is always easier that way after all. i find a way to run away, but there really isn't any way to actually escape anything at the end of the day, just put off the inevitable.
overarching rules have told me not to think about 'who am i?'. . . i'm searching desperate this hole is getting deeper by the hour, my hands are bleeding, i spin around. . . you're nowhere my only plans are too tired to push me anywhere but down. . .so who am i?. . .i'm searching, i'm desperate.
No comments:
Post a Comment