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Colors, Lights, and Pain

 

I had one of those fond memories earlier today. The kind that don't make you expel in hyperbole "shit" with the lament of embarassment. No. I was working in another place I'll soon forget when I came to an absolute standstill of reminiscent. I needed people, I realized. How many times have I worked like this? Alone. Finding my space somewhere at the corner of the Earth, or rather, whatever structure I'm pinned down at surveying my next chess move in life. It would've been nice to hear a voice here and there. It would have been nice if I didn't pick a day of the week where not a soul in their right mind would be working. It was in this transpiration of my own reverberating self pity off the walls that I could remember a time where I didn't "need" people as I did when I paused from being my productive self. It really wasn't that long ago.

 

No real need to paint a picture here. A little past a Christmas which was a little past a year when my great grandfather died and changed my life a little. A mall 30 minutes out from my homestead in Sprawl, USA. There were three things : colors, lights, and something I can't seem to remember for an odd reason. This mall is nicer than the other malls in my town. The only one that hasn't sunk to levels of poverty or gang warfare without philosophy. That's why I was here... I had a little money in my pocket and there was a certain non-philosophy I went by back in that day : Who needs people when you have money to buy that part of your soul?

 

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

 

And yet I found it at that time. I believed in the spirit of that winter. Cold air rushed my lungs with the promise of love to come, as if it cradled me to sleep whispering "don't worry your adventurous head now, full of erratic thoughts of distant worlds... You can have these thoughts and the luxury of companionship simulteanously some day." And that's very true, I can have both. But at a price I don't think I can physically pay for I've forged an identity that is borderline masochistic. I thrive suffering to ignite my lungs as the winter air does, so I may light the night sky of canvas with my feeling and utter passion whatever the target. This alogrithm would have been achievable without capitalistic love tourniquet, but live and let learn.

 

I carried around an array of miscellaneous electronic goods and enough uncomfortable plastic t-shirts to make myself a horrendous comic book villain in temperatures above 90 degrees Farenheit. Like I carry my creations with me now in a more mature atmosphere, I carried the luggage around the shop arcade with love and the feeling of companionship. Yes, this movie will teach me the cool of a jock associate. Yes, this music will teach me romance like an exchange girl. I have rendered the soft faces of moonlight in my memory bank scratched, in favor of something pre-programmed to give me temporary enlightenment. The song I listen to on that 2nd of 3 CDs I bought that night... Makes me feel like I'm calm, happy, and dead to the world. Someone wake me up before I'm seduced again my the artifical companionship. All I could see for the rest of the day was that memory. I remember the colors, the lights, and even the third thing... Because I realize its something you can't buy. Its always there.