By Nous

                            June 27, 2003


I had breakfast with my family this morning, in the hopes that things
might return to normal.  I ate eggs, sausage, and biscuits with butter.
Coffee with cream and sugar, please.  Conversation, wafted by the grand
promise of a good day that the morning brings, hovered over things of
no real importance.  Memories tinted each conversation.  I think it
actually makes for a depressing scene.
It was all to see if things could return to that place from before
childhood.  A family is a cold thing to belong to.
In my room, I felt that old feeling of aloneness.  I rearranged some
things, listened to some music.  I found a CD case for a band I had
forgotten about.
Remembering what I liked about them, I focused on the intensity of the
lyrics and pictures they painted.  Aloneness gave way to simple sadness.
In sadness, I feel I am surrounded by warmth and an outside force that
is willing to understand.  In aloneness, there is just the opposite.  I
can choose one or the other.
Long ago, I chose aloneness, and it changed me.
But, was it that long ago?  I feel like it was years ago; i feel old.
I would have to remember to write things down.
The creepy thing is that I felt that familiar feeling that comes with
summer.  Not a feeling of freedom or whatever, but one of an existence
such as that of a caterpillar in its cocoon.  
Butterfly or moth, one never knows.  Chase the dying flower or the
imitation-light, and in that, the everlasting darkness.  In summer, a
sense of sameness grips me, and by the end, I seem to have destroyed my
former self.
Maybe I should read a book.