Alone Together

We can never have it quite good enough. We can never keep it, no matter what. nothing in this life was meant to last forever; even the tiniest particle, the largest indestructible force will collapse someday. To my left sits a book on quantum physics, Miles Davis' album Kind of Blue (the essential jazz recording), photographs, unopened bars of dark belgian chocolate, and unused rolls of film. Right in front of me sits a large, glowing, white screen that is full of promise.



I want to write tonight. A want is very different than a can, a want is an impulsive, fleeting feeling that could logically pass at any given moment. I can. I can write tonight. "I can" is too ambitious. I want to can. I wish the can were so easy.

Another one of the things I wish I could can at this very moment is photograph. I wish my camera worked tonight. I wish everything that was ever possible and open to me was possible right now. I wish every opportunity for me to do the right thing presented itself right now: I should look you in the eye. I should say something. I should do something. I should leave the house. I should place that phone call. I should send that email. I should write that letter. I should've kissed you. I should be there with you. I should, I should, I should. I would. I will. I shouldn't be afraid, not even once, up to the very second before the second I die. In that last second, I will allow a small amount of tangible fear to flood the second before I no longer am awake.



It's this moment of beauty, the endless hours before daylight where only the photographs on my wall keep me company. The loneliest time of my life is yet to come, I've decided. I'm sure anyone could be more alone than me, now or then. or later. But for now, I can't comprehend that. I can only hope it won't choke me for too long.

Sometimes I feel that movies are more real than real life. Silly, I know, but it's sometimes only in movies where everything about a scene is noticed and recorded and utterly meaningful. What happens to the details in real life that no one sees? Are they lost forever in the vacuum of space, or are they recorded somewhere and kept as archives? It's this and other things that plague me from day to day.



I dedicate this time in my life to all those who will never read this, from the cute guy who works at the Y, to the boy i know who lives far away and far off in my mind. To everyone else that will never know me. Perhaps one day this will all mean something, perhaps there is a reason I have no reason. I have no direction, and no way to know for sure. But I lay my trust in the rush of fate.