2001-12-17 - 5:43 PM
2
The traffic outside, that I hear right outside my window - somehow reminds me of the sound of the ocean. The constant splashing of puddles as the cars drive through it, become similar to the crashing of waves against the sand and jagged rock.
The window is wide open. I'm sitting in the dark. It looks midnight, but it's only six - the lavendar sky fools me. I'm awaiting the sounds of seagulls, but I know they're not going to come. Why do I feel like I'm on a beach?
I feel the tears forming again; feeling sort of lonely again. Michael's on his bed, sleeping - resting after a long day. I feel like doing that too, but I just can't bring myself to for some odd reason. I really do feel like the ocean tide is outside, and I'm only a few yards away.
I'm feeling down, too lax for a mind's peace. Maybe that's why I think I'm on a beach; I'm wishing I were away from it all. I'm transforming the sounds of the street, into sounds of the sea. The gravel outside becomes the sand. So I guess it's pretty understandable, the beach outside, that vast ocean I'm wishing would be there, because I'm wishing to be there too.
It's weird though, my bi-polar thought process, thinking I'm at a beach...
...but dreaming about walking through the lights of New York.
