Always the odd ones. The odd ones that were sewn as good seeds and would grow to be good trees. Nourished and nurtured plants that were given enough care by their gardeners to flourish as intended. Never expected to wither and die from the changing seasons and endless adaptations required for life.
Except now, we did die a little bit on the inside. We never expected to be held under so much constraint and hardship in trying to secure ourselves in life and chasing what we had always wanted. We envisioned our vision for the future and in doing so, destroyed the enjoyment of living in the present. The present is a present.
Walking through a changed city. A city I grew up in and died. Cranes line the skyline like stars light the night sky. And tonight, I feel like I’m in a different time and place. Stumbling in an inebriated stupor on the paved sidewalk that tracked many wild nights. Waiting for the city lights is like waiting for Jesus Christ. Waiting to cross the colour-drenched street, the rain hits the tar, making vibrant mirrors on this shaded night. Maybe I still have time.
But we just had a disagreement on things and made it awkward to talk it out. You tell me it doesn’t matter even though your face has lies etched all over it. Enough scars for me to question your authenticity. Always walking on egg shells. Though, it feels like walking on broken glass every time we have to deal with each other. You imply that the direction I am heading in is not in line with your own. But you seem to get aligned with what I am saying every time I walk off and drive home. The great divide between us is because you fail to realise that I’m me and you don’t know who you are.
But as I’m traipsing through these illuminated city streets, I see my reflection in a pool of colour. I see my eyes burning with desire and lust to be better than the rest at what I do. And that’s where the issue lies. You see my arrogance, aloofness and indifference in the way I talk and act; like my mind is always somewhere far away. Far enough to create a disconnection between us for the fact that I’d rather be alone writing this for therapy than hanging out with you.
That’s the issue.
But as I see my reflection in the street, I also see a man that’s frustrated with himself and the gift he has been empowered with. I string sentences like webs and the flies are my followers. But what’s a man to do if he has been granted this power and does not know what to do with it next?
I was in the club cubicle screaming:
WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO MAKE THIS WORK? WHAT AM I DOING HERE? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS? WHO THE HELL IS GOING TO WANT TO READ THESE WORDS? WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?
I see the raindrops distort the reflection and realise the fact that we having a widening disconnect is because I’ve grown away from my roots. Even with the perfect gardeners who nurtured and cared for me. I guess I have changed with the seasons. I seem to be weaving and swerving through this life like a snake and foreign vehicle. Trying to evade and dodge indulging in parties, women, alcohol and everything that comes with trying to ignore the consequences of reality. Ignoring the reality of not knowing what comes next with this power I have been given.
And you know I love these things as much as the next person who is lost. But you’re lost too in your own limiting beliefs and restrictions that you place on yourself. You say I am damaging myself with the way I behave. But I can see you damaging yourself with the way that you think. You say that I’m reckless. I say that you’re insecure. And now nothing gets resolved. The only thing left is the murmurs of a deteriorating friendship.
And then I think again.
Do I really know myself? When I do find out the next step in my purpose, what are going to be the ramifications? Are you going to drift even further away because I know what’s next and you have fallen further into complacency? Are you going to be even more envious of what I am achieving while you sit there and complain and judge my every move and mistake? Am I still going to love you from afar while you despise me even in close vicinity? Or, I am I just going nuts? Either way, I feel an even larger cold war brewing.
I am not even in my own city anymore. As I wait for the taxi, the rain starts to pour. My shoes and socks are soggy and my fists clenched from everything that has been going on. Back in the day, we were well-grounded kids who didn’t realise that the hurricane was coming. The calm before the storm. Now, we have been uprooted and thrust into a life where our views on everything are different. It’s just the way it is. I hopelessly slip down on the gutter and take a deep breath. I let the rain dissipate and let my troubles go with it.
All I know is that the time will come; and it will inevitably. That time will come when we pass away and we will either be in arms or we will be apart. Everything else in between is unknown. Just know that when we are laughing in the sky when it’s all said and done, we were always those kids running amuck.
I love you.
She’s in the passenger side as the taxi pulls up.
As I stare out the taxi window, this northern city seems a lot more familiar than the one I grew up in. The city lights seem to be reassuring me that everything will be alright. Every time I’m in this city, it always feels right.
I pay the driver, and we hobble over the driveway to her door. Just as we go inside I smile. She smiles. She smirks and punches me in the arm. The night ends.
Now the sun is up and I can hear the plane fly over the apartment heading south. As I turn over, she is already awake and staring at me. I smirk and kiss her good morning. She asked where I had been all week. She wanted some reassurance.
I laugh and smile. She punches me expecting an answer.
All is say is “Coming home”.