He looked over the sparkling city skyline and smiled. The night was chilly and his breath mixed with the cigarette smoke left long trails.
He was on the balcony on a skyscraper, high enough to hear nothing of the noises far below, high enough to peacefully meditate on the distant building lights, those dream like apparitions. Lights meant life and life meant stories, and at least a few of them worth listening.
But tonight he was content, tonight he was at peace with not knowing and not wondering.
He observed his mind, waiting to see if it would come up with something to say. Nothing. Nothing at all.
He chugged his drink down, stubbed the cancer stick out and lit another. Still nothing.
Smiling into the night he continued gazing at the lights, glazed eyes reflecting, watching, observing.
Summer is here, the semester is over and my bags are packed. It’s been an year since I joined the university but it feels so much shorter. It seems the older I grow the faster time passes. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I am an adult (legally at least). I mean, I don’t wanna grow up…who the hell wants to grow up? Grown-ups are positively repulsive. Going to work all dressed up, acting decent, saying all the right things, paying taxes, being “social” *shudders*.
My childhood was real slow, time wasn’t even a factor. I thought it would last forever, the summer haze, long lazy afternoons, playing on the grass, sitting by the lake. Damn. I never realized how cinematic it was.
So I don’t think I wanna gonna grow up. Or at-least ever do what grown ups do. My mom thinks she will see me get married one day. Not happening. I am not gonna get a job. I’m gonna leave the first chance I get and I am going to keep going. I’ve thought about this for a while now, and it keeps getting clearer. The life the people around me expect me to have is my worst nightmare, a nightmare that will come true if I don’t start making plans. So in a couple of years I hope to be gone, away from everything I’ve ever known, and in the process I hope to unlearn everything that’s been taught to me. My heart aches with wanderlust. Summers are the worst, when things look dreamy and the promise of a potential memory to be made is strongest and the all the memories made in the past summers are clearer then ever. Summer is here, my bags are packed, and my feet are itchy and my heart aches, telling me to go…to just go, somewhere, anywhere, way out of here.