Summertime Bo-Jangle

Where did everyone come from?  The worst part of it is that I know it's all going to end too soon.  I'm not okay, but I revel in the fact that nobody else is, either.  I guess that only perpetuates my situation.

I think I'll watch an old friend get a tattoo tomorrow morning.  Appropriate goodbye.

Every goodbye gets me to thinking about goodbyes in general, how infinite they seem.  I fear being alone and shallow.  I guess that's normal.  I am shallow.  And normal.  In a weird way.

I get headaches, but ignore them.  It's nothing some tree bark can't take care of.  I ride a thin line all the time and sometimes obsess over what others think of me.  Every bottle is filled with tears and aspirin.

We might just be ruining the world out of spite.  I'm okay with that because I have to be.  Some people never change, some get worse, and some surprise you.  In general, they don't change.  We just get older.  With everyone I've seen the past few days it's been refreshing.  I surprised myself with how much I forgot.  There's a simple freedom that found its way into the loose network of people I once knew.  And even then I was never really part of any group.  I only have a handful of people that have had a major impact on me, and I on them, and then there's just everyone else.

I sometimes envy the social butterfly, who goes through life knowing everyone and changing nothing.  I'm too old to make new memories with anyone other than the people I've known.  I was only young once, and I can count on one hand the number of people who affected my youth.  Now I'm entering a new stage of life where I'm some kind of lone wanderer.  A dog just trying to make it through.  Marriage would be nice, but I don't think I'm going to end up marrying anyone I've met thus far.  Which is scary.  I don't know where to begin.

I'm grateful for who I know and the impact they've had on me, because I generally like who I am.  So, thanks for that, you bastards.  You changed everything, and all I could do was the same in return.

There's a long, abandoned highway.  It's dark.  It rains just enough so that you don't notice.  You can only identify those around you by a bright light they carry, and the words below you span for miles.  The earth is cracked, death is just beneath you, and you don't know what to say.  You just keep walking.