“You’re living at a time of extremism, a time of revolution, a time when there’s got to be a change. People in power have misused it, and now there has to be a change and a better world has to be built and the only way it’s going to be built is with extreme methods. And I for one will join in with anyone, I don’t care what color you are, as long as you want to change this miserable condition that exists on this earth. Thank you.” Bookmark and Share Bookmark and Share



11.12.2006

the oddities of a man in search of truth

I spent the last hour walking around the campus I spent five of the most formative years of my life. I sit, overwhelmed by what met me: vivid recollections of the experiences that have shaped my present form. In my hand, a burning, whistling menthol cigarette and in my chest the resonance of a life past.

Preeminently was the memory of a past love. Our time together haunts me like nothing I've ever experienced. I recall times like our conversations at A.B.'s grave. As morbid as it sounds is as damp as my night was. Years ago we sat there, on stones that still remember our names, our conversations, our love. What strikes me most about her and our relationship is the present. The absence of her presence as dug a grave in my heart, only to be filled with dirt, flowers and a resting stone. HERE LIES US.

As young as we were, I am still convinced that I found true love there. She may not say the same, but inwardly, deep beneath the sea of insecurity and hurt, she believes it to. For that we have not let go. For that we will always love, over that tombstone.

On this night, I recalled the fear that passed through me like oxygen. Fear of expectation, fear of man, mostly fear of myself: the true self that still has yet to come forth. In the end I realise we weren't just kids, we were young men and women searching for meaning in a desolate world.

I remembered my car and all the memories that accompanied it. I realise it for the blessing it was and feel the weight of it no longer being present. I guess you could call this evening memory lane. That winding road is a lonely path that few will brave but all must face. I have, on this wet, starless night. I have faced my demons.

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