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| I keep making studying abroad my excuse, but every time it comes up,
I just feel worse and worse about myself.
It was a lucky escape from something I didn't know I was running from.
I haven't even HEARD of the gathering tomorrow,
and a smattering of my philosophy friends are going.
My ride home stopped in to Wykstra's office before we left,
and he agreed to go out for beers later next week with him.
The people in this department hang out. The people in this department have fun on weekends.
I work and hang out with my best friend. One person.
These people that I really enjoy have time to go out, hang out.
I'm either in class, at my internship, frantically trying to finish homework,
or dead asleep.
Time is not a luxury I have anymore.
I miss it dearly some nights. Most nights.
I hate to admit it,
but I'm not as happy as I could be,
and sometimes I want to be. I realize that no one gets everything they want,
but I do. Very much. I just don't know how to do it anymore.
I think I'm too late.
And my excuse, though slightly valid,
is that I've missed out on a year of social linking being in a foreign country.
I have loads of friends there--what happened to me between there and here?
How is it that I cried leaving there, but I probably won't shed any tears for Calvin?
And what's more, why do I care so much?
I'd love to not--because then I wouldn't have anything to shoot for.
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| There are a few different brands of them,
but even with the distinctive packaging,
most are the same underneath,
and it's the Darcy eloquence that will get at least me
Every time.
The charismatic way he works the room,
and the laughter that you can pick out as genuine.
He knows how to live, how to love life,
even if he does it in ways opposite to me,
All the time.
Being in comfort with yourself isn't something that's taught,
and we are desperately trying to teach ourselves--
it is the rare form of man who will stay a boy forever
because there is a twinkle lit behind his crinkled eyes
Most times.
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Like a haunted mirror I can't escape
I find my self reflected in his eyes
Someone terrified and about to rape
Me with the truth of this failing disguise
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| and therefore save myself in how my understanding has changed
Ah, of the things that change without giving you notice,
until one day you find yourself in a new place with a compass
where the North has shifted away from the Lights.
Instead of being pulled to the right, to the left,
the rigid tides roll in and out, in and out,
and the sand scatters like thoughts in every direction.
The strong trees on the hills paved in sunlight's gold
rot like aesthetic driftwood
and the bridge to the Lighthouse has collapsed into the sea.
The marks in the sand may have been yours in years,
but the foam that swirls in the shallows of memory purge the record
Enough--where its place remembers it no more.
People I thought I loved I still do,
but it's because of them that I've left those irreparable marks on the sand,
and I don't have to pay to sneak in anymore.
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| Lord, give me song.
Give me something that will last for a little while longer
I long to be just enough
Out of the shade short enough to live,
Long enough to die. Like you did again.
Please continue to love me as I have not,
As after all, the songs and the choruses refrain from me
I trail the last notes along the ends of my fingers,
and I wish I knew how to play.
Lord, I've never known.
You know that
The night is always already here
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