Did you know that the word Race Car is a palindrome? Did you know that in olden times, horse driven carriages used to pass through parkways and now we park on driveways?
There’s certain words a person can only use so much, with this I think I have exhausted my quota of using the words crash and car. It doesn’t paint a pretty picture, I know. This metaphor kept circling in my mind, I thought about it as I was walking on the asphalt road with white cars zooming past me. I wrote it down as soon as I got home.
This post is brought to you by Go-Get-Your-Driver’s-License-Already.
Some of my posts here are directly from my journal, like this one. I wrote this when I was feeling lost but at one point it seemed like I was wallowing, which is so not cool or a good mental space to be in.
I hope you like it. Please let me know your thoughts on it!
In quarantine I turned to look inwards, and found joy in the little things of a routine or lack thereof. As we get adjusted to this new normal and aspects of the world open up again, the expectations from before remain the same. This week I tried to get back to my old mindset, so I could perform for the moments and tried to resist this massive change. But I couldn’t.
Sometimes I think that we still live in a world where expressing our grief is considered an exaggeration. I wrote this about what goes on in my mind when I have stressful, confusing, bad days. In times like these I’m grateful for the Internet and pages/posts online that share ideas about a positive outlook on life, even when I can’t talk to someone face to face.
Acting on a whim, I jumped in the cab with you, Our lives touched at midnight but never saw the light of day. I was headed one stop away, I would have let you in, if you asked me where I lived, But you said my street meant goodbye.
Tired and home, I greet my empty bowl of keys, I never know what these things mean.
Following nights I stayed up late, didn’t I? That same time and thought about the car ride, Your tousled hair and rolled up jacket sleeves, Confetti stuck to your skin, A soft brush therein, Minute enough to be missed.
I look for you in restaurants, Retro bars playing new songs And the morning traffic Like a bad habit.
Won’t you meet me in the afternoon? We’ll re-create the magic of mistletoe, If we close our eyes, it’s always night somewhere And a party everywhere.