"Forget about responsibilities, and let’s run away through the night."

We’re halfway down Neck Road and driving through a blur of dim lit streets, there’s moments to speculate when you’re shoving what-should-be-done’s aside and screaming I-don’t-care-anymore. Moments to wonder if it’s okay to substitute responsibilities with a few nights to spare in the company of others. 

"I’ll only let you charge your phone if you play your music." 

"In this volume?" almost screaming to the top of my lungs with the windows rolled down.

"Yes. That’s the rules."

"That’s not fair. I have sappy songs." 

"Let’s hear it then." 

There’s something terribly nerve wrecking with a playlist played out in the open. It’s almost like the most private part of yourself you try to keep on the down low, considering your choice of music says a lot about your character from what you choose to listen to on the daily. I plug in my phone, and Sam Smith blasts through the speakers. 

You’re the one designed for me
A distant stranger that I will complete
I know you’re out there we’re meant to be
So keep your head down and make it to me

An endless drive through the night, the songs playing like an old record recollecting the past and replaying what-used-to-be’s. My heart reverberating through a hundred miles per hour with the volume on max and there’s a guy in front of us screaming to the top of his lungs how much he’d die for a lover he never met. It’s quite funny, really. Singing along to the lyrics of a broken song when all of us in the car happen to be somewhat broken ourselves. We stop and park at the local Diner still standing since the 70’s, ordering burgers and spaghettis to our hearts content hoping the next song to play would be less relatable than the last, can we get some fries with that? It’s a shame how easy it is to forget those little things. Like “how are you?” with the actual intent of wanting to know exactly how you are than just the formalities. 

"So, How are you?"

"The usual." 

I understand your inconsistencies, I have a knack for excuses that are meant to intrigue. You called me in the middle of the night and asked if this was worth it. Maybe not. Maybe so. But what is life if none of the choices I make are brave? No. I want this even if it makes your heart waver.

Keen Malasarte, You have a tendency that leaves me weak, but I’ll still fight for what I think is worth something.

To do list:

Keen - I know you’ll end up distracted again and waiting last minute to do this but pull your shit together. I’m leaving this here so you’ll see you got tons of work to do so the next time you’re on tumblr remember this:

• Write close reading on Jane Eyre
• Finish Great Expectations
• Finish Christ in Concrete
• Finish The Revolutionary Road
• Write glossed lyric article and draft
• Pick up book order at McNally
• Read The Jazz Singer
• Write 5 pages on Tale of Despereaux
• Write 5 pages on Titus Andronicus
• Finish King Henry V
• Print out readings and articles by Prof. Rutkowski
• Sleep & Remember to eat
• Deadline before Monday 5pm

The other day,  you called at 4am  and there was silence  for a few,  until you spoke  a crack in tone,
"How do I erase you?"
we lay silent  and still  hoping the night  would swallow us  beneath the ground  without a heart  to beat for each.
"How do I forget you?"
I’ve told many  long ago,  that I wouldn’t promise  myself for one but then you came  and I turned myself  around,  undone.
"How do I unlove you?"
I don’t know  however many you’ve loved before. But I know best  not to stand  in between a way  of a love I know not  how to return.

The other day,
you called at 4am
and there was silence
for a few,
until you spoke
a crack in tone,

"How do I erase you?"

we lay silent
and still
hoping the night
would swallow us
beneath the ground
without a heart
to beat for each.

"How do I forget you?"

I’ve told many
long ago,
that I wouldn’t promise
myself for one
but then you came
and I turned myself
around,
undone.

"How do I unlove you?"

I don’t know
however many
you’ve loved before.
But I know best
not to stand
in between a way
of a love I know not
how to return.

If I had left my obligations behind and went somewhere to start my life anew, I wonder if I’d still be the same person. I wonder if there would still be this empty feeling in my chest as if there’s something lacking. Like a drive, maybe. Or something entirely different than the things I’ve been accustomed to. I wonder, if running away had been a choice, where would my feet and heart have taken me? 

I am my own worst nightmare

I am exhausted
and angry
filled with
so much fury
and frustration
there’s
something
inside that
wishes to come
to the surface
It burns
and erupts
a volcano
somewhere deep
and I have no clue
how to extinguish
a fire that wishes
to burst into flames
locking behind
every door
and throwing
the key somewhere
on ashes and
darkness
so there’s no
chance
of ever finding
a way out
or hope to be
a survivor
from my self.

Insecurities run rampant under my veins, but despite it all, despite the nights spent angry at the thought of flaws laid out open and bare for you to see, you remind me that there’s no such thing as people hard to love. Just those who can’t learn to see the beauty in themselves. “Repeat after me,” you said. “I am worth a lot.” And I will always be thankful for you.

Keen Malasarte, A Night Worth Remembering.

The Elk
"I think you live in coffee shops and libraries," he said. Remembering the conversation from the previous night, I half laughed to myself at the thought of how you might possibly portray me. "But I do." Sitting in the middle of the city in some forgotten place, writing to you. There are far too many things I wish to say. Far too many secrets I wish I could lay out in the open. Home is where the heart is, and my feet always find a way.

The Elk

"I think you live in coffee shops and libraries," he said. Remembering the conversation from the previous night, I half laughed to myself at the thought of how you might possibly portray me. "But I do." Sitting in the middle of the city in some forgotten place, writing to you. There are far too many things I wish to say. Far too many secrets I wish I could lay out in the open. Home is where the heart is, and my feet always find a way.