Freewriting III (10 min)

I think of a park. I park with trees and grass and nothing particularly interesting or special about it; nothing special about it except what it means to me. I think of laying on the grass up at the sky, the sun filtered through the leaves and that momentary luminescence sparkles in the emptiness for just a split second. For that split second the blinding light brings me back to moments of chasing my best friend through the house, the blinding lights take me back to being in an embrace with my parents, hearing people whose laughs I recognize. I remember what it took to get on the roof, to breathe the air from a different height. To look at the world from a different perspective. I just sat there, watching the sun escape into the mountains. I'd watch the cars swerve and spiral- going nowhere it seems. I spend most of my time thinking, I walk and think and sleep and think and eat and sleep and think. All this thinking must lead somewhere shouldn't it? My biggest mistake was starting this without really having a clue where it was going to go. Isn't that what we do with most things though? Start them without clues and only little hints of faith, that tiny speck of faith that tells us that trusting yourself and the future may not be that bad of a thing after all. I like holding your hand, feeling the skin of it against mine. Who you are, I really don't know but I just thought of holding someone's hand. Maybe it's my mum's hand or my father's or.... I'm really lost now with what I'm doing here. The song I was listening to ended and the next one has yet to begin and I'm stuck in between the time, the seconds it takes for the music to start playing. It actually is playing but only very softly. Sort of in whispers. Don't you love whispers? The tickle of the wind against your ears, the words, the phrases, the secrecy of it all. The little chuckle or giggle let out afterwards. It's all a unifying process. The song playing is glass vase cello case and there's a lot of memory that attached itself to it. The way dust attaches itself to old furniture in the crevices of your household. I'm not exactly sure why my head's been hurting so much lately, or why I place my head in my hands and sigh so much, or why I have to clear my mind before really doing anything of importance. Right now for example, I want time to run out so that I can start breathing again, the very air that fills my lungs seems limited and I always seem to blame being tired but you can't always be tired, right? The next song came on, one that made me cry the first time I heard it, the first time she sang it. I remember that, but if I knew then what I know now, how much of an effect her presence in my life would have on me. Everything's ever moving, ever changing, so far it's been for the better and I've never been so aware of it all.