Just found this on the laptop.
On a lonely day in Barquisimeto, Venezuela-2006
I haven’t heard from those who I considered my closest friends in weeks. I try to remind myself that life is busy and I am out of sight and thus out of mind, but my loneliness convinces me it’s more. Why do I lose those that I care most about? A friend has been defined as someone who truly knows you and loves you anyway. It seems that those who truly know me always turn away. Are we truly as lonely as we want to be? Or are there things in us that push others away that we have no control over? I’m hurt by the loss and don’t understand. Is it my own incapacity to look beyond others mistakes that isolates me from them?
The bird that just flew overhead, silhouetted against the dark sky, looked as if it was growing tired. Its flapping was labored, unnatural, awkward. These buildings around me are too tall. The cars are too loud and the smog too thick. The bars on the windows give the impression of imprisonment, but they’re merely representative of cruelty and fragility. Would you come back to us? God, in all of this- earth, sky, galaxy, beyond- where are you? What are you? Are you the air I breathe or the warmth of a fire? Are you in the sun setting in the distance or are you the sunset? Is the nostalgic feeling I get from the ocean chemically induced or is that you? Or are all things truly one and I a fool for asking so many questions- for wandering so far from home and feeling so alone? I’m not scared to be alone and I’m not scared to be without you if you truly are not.
Distorted voices and affinities- popping in between awake and sleep.