You're Not Supposed To
The older I get the more I realize that there are many things I don't know. I don't know why I do this. I don't know what I'm doing. I know that I'm tired of seeking because long ago I realized I didn't know what I was looking for.
So here I breathe... 11 something on a Friday night sitting on the deck. Headphones on with a shamrock plant staring me down beyond the screen of my laptop.
"I was counting the days and I was counting the reasons I was satisfied."
I may be listening to Field Music but I'm not listening to their prescription. David sings in my ear but I'm not learning anything. Peter harmonizes and it's all I can hear. My own voice is lost in the guitar and keyboard clicks.
I can pretend that I'm sitting here on this Friday night because I'm a bit of a loner. While that's not entirely off the mark, it's not entirely true either. Nothing is black and white, it's all the grey of my mood lately. I like to pretend I can face the world on my own but I put up my barriers like the next person. I hide in sound. I hide behind the sunglasses and urban survival gear. Right now it's become a matter of survival and not much else.
"I still feel too young to start a conversation. I'm still coughing up blood... just to test your reaction. And you fell for it like you always do because you wanted to and I wanted you to."
No one falls for it. They move on. I keep surviving.
"When I get home. I think about you and your demeanor. You've got grace. I won't shut up. Know that I should. I'd rather stay in the time when I saw a smile on your face."
Buy some: Field Music. Please.