a year gone unrecorded, or better yet, lived rather elusively, gone, buried between a heap of oof other memories, images so vivid, they bear no real significance, but kept none the less. what’s the use then? a buzz of this and that, events you hold so dearly, routine routine routine, a walk in the park, lectures more lectures, adding up and down, trashing crashing into your brain, a flood of things, clogging, freezing, clotting, leading everything to burst out in the open field and you go aaaaaah. what’s it gonna be then, eh.
she speaks again of her escape fantasy. alone, with a heap of cash, a backpack, no id, no phone, no nothing, a book, a notebook, a pen, your favourite music; across the country. be rid of everyone you ever known. incognito. on the road. the search for the self. watching all sorts of people doing different things, believing different things, having different upbringings. watching life . or go up caves and live in solitude. i said, go watch into the wild. look what happened in the end. tragic. she said, what’s the point of reading, watching, admiring all those things, and dream about it day and night but never go attempt it yerself. i said, courage, dude. i very nearly tried it but failed. failed. failed. needs no repeating. better preparation. busy. busy. college bound now eh. aaah youth. silly hopes you got there, buddy. grow up dude. she said how pathetic. mountains of reasons. he would’ve done it. and leaves us accordingly.
okay.
someday, perhaps.
perkaraperkara 