Meditations on 2007

1. My room's filled with dozens of shelves all lined with tiny boxes filled with (probably) hundreds of envelopes packed with to-do lists where nothing gets crossed out. All my good intentions and blatant failures packed away in orderly chaos. Circling and crushing me. The past pressing down, squeezing away all hope for the future.
   
   
   
2. All these bridges I've burned could light up this whole fucking city.
   I know I can do better than this.
   
   
   
3. I live for sensations. For experiences. I want to make my life into something that will be remembered. But I don't know how successful I've been in making my life art. There is a kind of empty weariness that comes on when I drink too much and have too many shallow life-altering conversations with strangers.
   
   
   
4. Left. Thud. Right. Thud. Left. Thud.
   This is all there is. Feet slamming against concrete over and over.
   
   
   
5. I want mixtapes, kisses in the rain, poetry and sweet nothings written on flesh, Jimmy Eat World and warm October nights in your car.
   I want all of that, but not from you. I wish there was some way to detach all of those fantastic moments from the reality of you. Some way to transplant those memories in to more fertile, less polluted ground.
   
   
   
6. Deep breath. Hold on tight. Here we go again.