As the hand of the clock reaches twelve, it is officially midnight. The countdown begins: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 21. Staring out onto the Toronto skyline, I note the buildings and architecture of this urban landscape. As I spent the evening counting down the last few moments of youth, I watch the sun go down. I cannot help but think about my twentieth year, a year that was not solely about agony, but about growth. With every passing month, characters came in and left. From Americano to Owen, a change had occurred and I had become someone much different than before. My mind races through pictures, and sunsets, Asia to Amsterdam, bodies shaking with every touch, a kiss…
My train of thought is broken as the muffled sound of music echoes through a strangers headphones in an elevator tram. Exiting the elevator, I run my hands through my hair. Fixing any loose strands and putting them back into my contained bun, I exit the building and am welcomed by the sound of the city. A chill air illuminates off the lake, making this summer afternoon quite dreary. Grey clouds cover the sky leaving streaks of rain to fill the air.
I want to feel the lips against my skin
When speaking about taking chances a common quote often comes to mind. In complete honesty, I do not remotely remember the quote, nor do I even remember who said it. To paraphrase and to slightly butcher, an un-calculated risk makes an unplanned result. Despite me forgetting the actual quote itself, I believe that I understand the gist of the matter. It is often that we are told to think long and hard before saying yes or no, for that answer can either positively or negatively affect the outcome. There have been plenty of circumstances where I have said yes when I should have said no, and additionally when I said no when I should have said yes.
The music of passing car jolts me out of thought as I walk down Bloor towards the city library.When heading to a library, I block out several hours from my schedule to giving each level an adequate amount of time.
It takes me quite a bit of time to actively pick a book. I make a judgement based on every minuscule detail, starting with the cover, I analyze the typography and the proper use of spacing. On the back, I criticize the authors portrait and the short novel summary. So much judgement goes into the simple and mundane task of choosing a novel.
Under a falling crescent moon, I walk home.
When faced with a bullet and a blade, what do you decide? When casualty will be met either way, do we just take the risk? I find myself getting attracted to the idea of things, the presumed course of action which dictates where we will eventually end up. The urges that dictate our emotions, feelings, drives, hormones, and distinctions that manipulate the half righteous idea that we are God and cannot be harmed. Departing from the hollowed out footprint of where we began, we take the time to carefully examine action and to take a route that will lead to the world unharmed. Millennials have faced the stark realization that life is no longer an invitation. Society will not fall down because we do, society will not crumble because we fall. Delicate as a glass doll we circle the perimeter of insanity as we decide how to continue on living when we don’t have money for cigarettes, food, and living, for there is only so much that can be done without recourse.
I think that I just resent him because he had you. I think that I resent him because I do not have a definitive answer, but he has you in his bed.
When it comes down to it all, I do not know what I want. I do not know what I need, nor do I know how I will attain it. While I have many questions left unanswered and many paths still not yet ventured, but what I do know is that I am not alone in this mess of things that we call society.