It's difficult to believe that in the last moments of life before, I arrived home from your bed, shoes in hand, head full of beauty and went for a run. I ran further than I'd ever run (at that time) - right through the Domain, across Grafton Bridge, down K' Road and right back around to my shitty decaying flat that occupied space beneath the Khyber Pass on-ramp. It was as if I was fuelled by charging overnight with you, squeezed into a single bed like my best friend and I used to in high school, when we were smaller and bigger all at once. Comfort in the lack of space.
I really did think that was a beginning - and it was, in some ways. The beginning of the next segment of my highly-categorized life, the one that came limping out of After Graduating and went crawling into "Outward Bound". Feeling hands-first into The Unknown.
Everything anyone ever wanted was felt in that morning. And lost two mornings later. Hopes and dreams. Naivety. Childhood. What do you want to be when you grow up? and Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see, but I disagree with that. I've the best tint in my glasses. They show me the unseen, the unheard and the unfelt.
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