Everything is routine now. You get lost going through the motions. You wake up, you brush your teeth, you drive to work. You find yourself seeking temporary solace in the mundane moments. Your daily coffee. A customers compliment. A coworkers joke. You answer emails and engage in at least a few brief human interactions. You sit in traffic, you make dinner, you shower. You do some household chores and you maybe get to indulge in a tv show. You most likely have a vice but it is probably losing its allure by now. You maybe get a vacation once a year. Is this just adulthood or is this the rat race of life? How can I maximize my happiness? Where is all the joy? Where are my flashback “movie moments”?

The only difference is, come spring, they’ll be blooming happily as the night sky stars slowly fade away from me as decaying fantasies.

I died for you once
And I told myself-
I would never again
Make a graveyard out of a garden

- why do I always cut away the flowers to make room for tombstones

The absurd
is an eye-opener
we are led on
another view to gather

life has a million
and one colour
why only see black and white
and none other?

I am writing this using a pen that was oh-so-kindly gifted to me by a kind old lady. She also gave me a cookie, but that’s beside the point. I think she knows that the best way to bribe college students is through food. I’m standing at the table beside a girl who I THINK is in one of my classes, but I still am not quite certain. She is the kind of athletic and strong that screams “this is the confidence that you’ll never have”. We’re both being shown a piece of paper with a minimal amount of writing on it, but an infinite amount of pure heart. The paper says a sweet word about prayer and doing well on finals and all that, but my focus is on the excessive amount of exclamation marks at the end of each sentence. I guess Presbyterians really are the Oprah Winfreys of religion. I forgot to mention that the old lady is Presbyterian. She is advertising a fall bible study led by college students, which, if I were not plagued with the constant assumption that I’ll never know how to socialize or make friends, I would be absolutely enthralled by. The truth is that I’ve been trying to get “plugged in” for a while now, but how can I get plugged in when my wire is frayed and everything I touch seems to smoke and burn at some point? My plug is a circle and the outlet is a square, so I guess it’s like that saying, “A circle can’t fit into a round peg”, or something like that. Anyways, I didn’t mean for this to become an analogy between being disconnected and electrical outlets, but it turned out that way. The old lady at the booth was nice. I hope to someday be that lovely. Although I was around her for a total of thirty seconds, I saw what it’s like to live a life not shrouded in a black cloud of fear. So, thank you, lady.