I swear to God, I'm trying to stop. It's just so comfortable to disappoint myself as I have been doing lately. One more crash into the ground wouldn't do me much harm when all I know are bruises and bleeding scabs.

I'm another person now, one you wouldn't recognize. You'd see me and not give me a second look yet a memory would cross your mind and you'll think you've seen me somewhere before, maybe in another time, maybe in another life, maybe being another person.

Maybe I never was the person that you thought I was.

HA! Now all this shit makes perfect sense.

   How was I supposed to react. That last hug you gave me and the words you said, I didn't really understand what was happening until we were all waiting for you at the pub doors. I'm glad I wasn't let in, I'm glad I didn't have to see anything more than I already did. The images I made up in my head were enough to give me a sleepless night.

   So, now what am I supposed to do? Sacrificing what I did I'm back to where I started, I haven't moved forward and It's days like these that show me I haven't moved at all.

   I shouldn't have done what I did, I shouldn't have hoped, I shouldn't have trusted.

   At least, thank you for the heads up. It didn't do much though.

By Joseph Arthur

I picture you in the sun wondering what went wrong,
And falling down on your knees asking for sympathy.
And being caught in between all you wish for and all you seen.
And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in.

May gods love be with you.
Always,
May gods love be with you.

I know I would apologize if I could see your eyes,
cause when you showed me myself I became someone else.
But I was caught in between all you wish for and all you need.
I picture you fast asleep
A nightmare comes,
You cant keep awake.

May gods love be with you.
Always,
May gods love be with you.

Cause if I find.
If I find my own way,
How much will I find?
If I find.
If I find my own way,
How much will I find?
You.

I dont know anymore.
What its for?
Im not even sure.
If there is anyone who is in the sun
Will you help me to understand?
Cause I been caught in between all I wish for and all I need
Maybe youre not even sure what its for,
Any more than me.

May gods love be with you.
Always,
May gods love be with you.

Good Life Lyrics
Francis Dunnery

Softly Now,
You owe it to the world.
And everyone knows that you're my favourite girl,
But there's some things in life that are not meant to be.
I'm not meant for you and your not meant for me.

Here's to our problems
And here's to our fights.
Here's to our achings
And here's to you having a Good life
From Me
Good Life.

Softer Now,
You owe it to yourself.
And don't think that you will be left on the shelf,
Cause there's someone for you and there's someone for me.
Like me you'll meet them eventually.

Here's to your lover
And here's to my wife.
Here's to your children and here's to you having a good life
From Me.
Good Life.

Louder Now,
You've lost all your pain
You're married with children and happy again
And now I'm regretting the move that I made
Fatal mistakes are so easily made.
Enough of my problems they only cause fights.
Forget that I rang you
And promise you'll have such a
Beautifully happy and painlessly romantic
Good life,
From Me.

Good Life.

···I dreamt her last night again. After so many months without even imagining her in less than a week I¿I've dreamt her twice. She had changed though, almost the same but some details were different, her hair was short again, she had lost weight, a lot, and looked great.

···I dreamt we were at a house of some relatives of mine. I had snuck into her room and we had incredible sex, we had to do it on the floor because the be was to noisy. Apparently, we knew this already. I went out of her room so nobody would suspect a thing and went into mine to sleep planning to wake up a couple of hours later and surprise her in the middle of the night the way I used to do when I spent the night at her place. Unfortunately I ended sleeping in until later afternoon and missed a plane I was supposed to take, I have no idea where.

···I don't what these dreams anymore. My sexual frustration does not improve with dreams like these, I'd rather be cold and collected. Sleep is supposed to be my only private sanctum but, as it seems, even that has been breached.

···I need a fucking break from all these people I'm gonna end up hating.

To have you.

That is all I want.

Damn you for being so far away.

... and I quote:

"...nothing more than a despicable, vindictive and spiteful human being."

Few things surprise me these days. Why? Because it's about time I stop letting everything surprise me, but that's what I get for saying what i feel.

This girl I know, she told he had moved away. She told me that I shouldn't even feel bad because he didn't say goodbye to anyone. He just left, him, his new smoking habit and his notebook. He left most of his stuff here along with a note saying that we could keep or sell everything, he didn't care, he wasn't coming back.

I think he's moved on

I HATE TARSALS!!!

   I'm thrown away into the air, not something that would kill me but something that'll help me fly. You've got this rhythm, this beat in your step that lightens your body, it lightens the air.

   I'm high enough to write something down and send it to you; a letter or a three words, a thousand pages read in one second.
   I'm high enough to see the whole town, the house where you live and where we first became lovers. I'm high enough to see.

By STARS

Try as he might he's unable to speak,
He grabs her by the hair, he strokes her on the cheek.
The bed is unmade like everything is,
Dark little heaven at the top of the stairs.
Take me like that, ruin it all,
Then build it again by the light in the hall.
He drops to his knees says please my love, please,
I'll kill who you hate, take off that dress, you won't freeze.

One more night, that was a good one,
One more night, i dreamed it was a good one.
One more, one more night, that was a good one,
One more night, the end should be a good one.
A good one.

He starts with her back cause that's what he sees,
When she's breaking his heart she still fucks like a tease.
Release to the sky, look him straight in the eye,
And tell him that now, that you wish he would die.
You'll never touch him again so get what you can
Leaving him empty just because he's a man.
So good when it ends, they'll never be friends
One more night, that's all they can spend.

One more night, that was a good one,
One more night, i dreamed it was a good one.
One more, one more night, that was a good one,
One more night, the end should be a good one.

...wishing you were here...
...wishing you never left...

... tugging your skirt saying "please, please, please...

    -"One never knows what to expect," he spoke to himself "...but one always expects the best." He finished that sentence trying to actually believe it. He cursed all his decisions up until this exact moment, yet that never means he would change. He never does, its too difficult for him. He would be able to keep the change for a few days but his monsters always came back, monsters he always kept to himself and hoped no one else found out. Maybe that's he stayed away from most people, he was scared of them finding out who he really was, who he really wanted to be if it weren't for all the social bigotry that would entail.

   He saw him walk away that day at the park after exploding in anger and self pity:

   He just stood up and left, without a word, without much more than a sigh and a hit from his cigarette. He was gone for good I had hoped. It is an unfortunate situation when all that I said I completely meant. As I watched walk away I couldn't help but be scared that I'd never see him ever again but I caught myself sighing in relief. I stood up that after a few minutes of watching the people in the park, the "normal" people, the one who have enough commodity to be running on the green grass while I'm banging my head against my bedroom wall every night from frustration and insatisfaction.

   Nobody seems to care that he's in the fight for his life, no one around seems to understand how life disappoints him most of the time, beginning with the fact that life now is a responsibility not an opportunity and from there you have to find whatever small piece of time you can to build a life. Everything is a career; everything is a memo; everything is numbers; everything is taxes, money, convincing, saying goodbye, never cumming. Everything is papers and signatures, everything is contracts and revenue, everything is an erection only half hard. Most of life is a disappointment.

   But he keeps all of this inside, inside him, inside his room and in that dent on his bedroom wall. Just the other day after a extremely disappointing afternoon he banged his head in that familiar spot and noticed something warm sliding down my face, the carpet was dotted red and so was the dent in the wall. He cleaned up what he could and put up a picture to cover the hole. Most people would stop after that, the smell and sight of blood would make people freak out and reconsider, as if blood was something so fucking priceless. Most people don't realize that I have just as much as most and that makes me just one more from the crowed.

   -"I'm tired of this," he said to himself but then chuckled to in his own silence and heard himself say...

    -"You always say the same thing, you stupid fuck."

... So I'll clear the road, the gravel and the thornbush in your path...
... Love is a scene I render when you catch me wide awake...

So, I got this the other day...

... my new habit.
... my expensive habit.
... my bad habit.
... my " unsuccessful intent on spending more time with you" habit.
... my habit I'm really starting to like.

   I remember all too well, when you opened your door I couldn't help but how I fell to the floor.

All I could say was that I was ashamed to break your heart then piece together again. But I still like to stay awake, scare the past away and spend the night indoors for a change. But all I can do is take you hole late, as much as one needs to, our lives are still tide to someone else.

   So we cut our ties and our bloody chains that holds us down, we'll go away and mix our bodies under the sun.

We'll walk through stones and over water to get where we haven't touched and have only thought of before. We'll find our world over other people's ruins.

WAITING FOR A SUPERMAN (THE FLAMING LIPS)
As sung by Iron & Wine

I asked you a question, but i didn't need you to reply.
“Is it gettin' heavy,” but then i realized
“is it gettin' heavy.”
Well, I thought it was already as heavy as can be.

“Is it overwhelming, to use a crane to crush a fly.”
It's a good time for Superman to lift the sun into the sky
'cause it's gettin' heavy.
Well, i thought it was already as heavy as can be.

Tell everybody waitin' for Superman
that they should try to hold on the best they can,
he hasn't dropped them, forgot them, or anything.
It's just too heavy for Superman to lift.

"I think I'm tired of this fucking game." He thought to himself. Everything that's happened since all of this started was just building up toward whimpering finale. He always thought there was a possibility but that was just his own personal sick motivation driving him crazy as it always does.

It wasn't the first time he was let down but that certainly did not make it feel any better. She'd call him over or pay any attention to him whenever a certain group of people were not present and even that was not a guarantee of any kind. He'd still be left sitting by himself waiting for a reaction.

He had changed so much in so little time, he was the first to admit it, if not to himself, at least to me. The smoking, the driving, the drinking, the late nights. Everybody thinks it was a way for him to socialize or to mis in with the group he wanted to belong to when, in fact, it was only a way for him to be close to her.

So many things changed in him without him even noticing until later on. His illness in the bedroom disappeared and he was so excited about this, yet felt wasted for it not being used. He doesn't know what cured him but he knows everything here had something to do and he's been dying to show off to somebody. He's the only one in his group to remain "sober" after coming here, not because he didn't want to but because all of his attempts have ended up with him going home by himself.

Just like last night, he came home smelling of cigarette smoke and alcohol, by himself, let down and looking down at the ground as if he was trying to memorize the patterns on the carpet. I bet he soon will.

I don't know what he's getting out of this or what he's losing for that matter, but I think he's realizing that it's not a fair trade and that he's putting a lot more than he's getting back, I can see that on his face and in his expression, he's sad and he'd like this for some time but now, he's just absolutely frustrated.

I haven't seen him since that day at the park, all I know is from what people have told me about him. They say he's drinking and smoking too much: they say they hardly recognized him.

They say he's thinking of leaving again...

September 11th, 2006

My apartment is starting too much like my parents house, that stench of smoke was impregnating everything, my clothes, furniture, the whole freakin' place. Scented candles aren't worth shit when you start smoking and I've been smoking a lot.

Three weeks today, actually. Three weeks since I've started buying packs of cigarettes still trying to figure out which ones are my favorites. Right now the unfiltered ones are doing the job. It's strange how much l'm resembling my father.

I haven't left my place ever since I walked out on him at the park, remember my friend I talked to you about? I've been calling in sick to school and work; I gave myself my own private vacation. Maybe you've asked yourself why haven't you seen me around, if you actually care. I've kept my distance from you because of he last conversation we had, I cant remember when it was or where, all I know is that I have no idea where this is going. The only consolation is that you don't know much more than me either. So basically I feel like I'm wasting my fucking time and I think It's about time I stop doing that.

I walked outside for a few minutes just to have a smoke in the cool air that was blowing outside, somehow a cigarette tastes better when it's cold, don't you think?. I bought another pack just to have as a back up and the guy from the store asked me about you and how he hasn't seen us hanging around, "She has better things to do, I guess" I replied on my way to the door. He said something else but I did not lend an ear to listen. I had already been outside for far longer than I wanted to.

I understand where you're coming from and what you don't want from all of this, but theres so much I thought I could get from you. I'm not disappointed or mad, just confused, you know? We simply can't seem to speak when we're face to face.

You know as much as I do that I cant wait and I wont, also, you know that I'm not interested in anyone else so at least that comforts me; at least I wont be pressured or put down by another rejection.

I'm planning on calling him again soon (my friend, I mean). I know I talk too much about him but he's the only person I have here that I can trust (besides you) and I think I might have hurt his feelings just walking away that day but, to say the truth, I was getting so fucking pissed with his attitude, I know I've probably driven him crazy with all this but that's exactly why I go to him, he's the only one that can help me out.

So I'm gathering myself for something, or most likely nothing, whatever happens that's what It'll be.

We'll just have to wait and see, I guess.

Right?

So I just left him there, sitting in the park bench. I couldn't' really take what he was saying anymore. That uptight fuck just didn't understand what I was going through.

I lit up a new cigarette on my way home, I still cant get used to my fingers smelling like tobacco, after all those years trying to get the people around me to quit I end up becoming a smoker. Just goes to show how much can change in so little time.

These past couple of weeks have seen me do things I wouldn't normally do. I told him my story but I didn't tell him everything, I never say everything I have to say for the fear of becoming too vulnerable in front of the wrong person. Spilling your own secrets randomly can lead to a very, very crappy outcome.

I decided to walk this time instead of taking the bus as I usually do. I just wasn't in the mood for crying babies and smelly bus-people, all I needed was to get home, open a blank page and hope my pen has enough. The music in my ears and the smoke in my mouth kept me busy until I got home, to this shitty, gritty apartment shared by no one except myself. It was all I could afford and it's more than I need.

My apartment consists of you lower than standard necessities, the chair and table being my most used and important pieces. I could almost wear that table down with how hard I press my pen against my notebooks. I've never brought him or anybody here though, not for being embarrassed at how the place looks, I couldn't care less, but because is what little space I have that I can call my own; not even my notebooks that used to be my best kept secret seem to have lost that appeal to me. Sometimes it's too hard for me to start writing after a full day of whatever the fuck I was doing.

I opened up my newest notebooks to the next blank page, trying to not read whatever expectation I wrote down on the few pages before that. After this morning I thought I would have something incredible to write about, but all I could think about was this afternoon, the awkward rejection, my stepping out of the longest friendship I've had and really wanting never to see him again. I just couldn't stand his way of belittleing all of my issues, his way of trying to find an answer for everything when all I wanted was someone to just shut the fuck up and listen.

He couldn't even do that.

So now I'm sitting in my only chair with my drink and smoke in my shitty table looking out at the window getting familiarized with the sounds coming from outside.

This is a shitty place, as shitty as I'm feeling right now.

-"The weekend of my life, I guess." He said.

We'd been sitting on a bench at the park for at least half an hour until he broke the silence with what he said.

-"You always were kind of dramatic, you know." I replied really believing that, not just trying to give him a hard time. "It's hard for me to define the rest of my life over what happened in two days." He tucked his head down into his chest, these last couple of days the weather has given us a little taste of the winter to come. His hands were buried in his sweatshirt pockets coming out only to steal a hit for the cigarette burning in the ashtray.

-"You've just never been me," he answered with just a hint of anger, as if he's been trying, unsuccessfully, to make me understand all this time, "you've just never been in a situation when you realize you're in the fight for your life." He turned his head and blew the smoke he still had in his lungs. "Yes, I am dramatic, but that's how I've lived all of my life and I cant do otherwise, not now, I'm too old and tired."

I tried to understand but his constant disappearings and sudden sunken depressions were starting to get to me, his bad vibes we're sinking into me and I was starting to feel just as tired, just as old as he was.

-"I cant continue doing this anymore, I can't have much more drama in my life than I have right now. You're sucking me dry over something that should've been fixed long ago, or maybe, possibly, it never should have happened. Instead I'm here listening to you tell your story over and over again as if you really had something new to say but you always manage to dwell in the same hole for too long, far too long for me to keep caring anyway."

There was this strange silence in the whole park after I finished saying that last word, I was surprised to actually realize that I had said that out loud. It was strange how I felt every fucking nerve in my body react to so much anxiety yet he stood still and pale. He tried taking another hit from his cigarette and realized it had gone out, he sighed with disappointment but stood not surprised.

He gave me a glance and said it was time to go. He stood up and without saying goodbye he started walking down the street towards a part of town I've never gone to.

I could still hear that last sigh coming from him, it made a shiver run down my spine and shook my bones. For the first time in all these years I was afraid that today could be the last day I'll ever see him.

He then disappeared again, as he usually does. After a while knowing one starts to not worry about these things he does. You'd be in a group with him at a bar or a party talking with him and having fun and suddenly he'd walk out the room and disappear, sometimes for fifteen minutes, an hour, sometimes for a day, sometimes for weeks.

You'd hear stories from people that have seen him, most of these stores do not include a conversation, only a sighting as if use his disappearings to try and become something more than he already is, like a legend or urban myth. He walks around in the cold at night with nothing but his notebook and cigarettes looking for details, trying to find a reason to sit down somewhere and write.

You'd always see him write, either on that ever-changing notebook of his that nobody gets to read, in a napkin or on his hands, there were a couple of times where I'd run into him only to shake his hand where I noticed that his palms and back of his hands were filled with his unique handwriting, letters and words only he understands, that only he can read. Nobody really knows why he writes, he just does. He's shown some of his writings and I have to admit that a few are really good but most is crap. He'd be very protective what he shows people though, as if he didn't want people know too much about him. He might actually be thinking we know alot when in fact we know nothing.

I haven't heard from him and I haven't asked but I still cant help and look around every once in while, when I'm at the bar he likes, just in case I find him so we can, maybe, share a few words.

Feelings were always his weakness, he'd fall for a girl and that would haunt him for months, he'd scribble her name here and there trying to find words that rhymed, trying to come up with a phrase that could open a way into her heart, or maybe into his own psyche. I don't think he really understands himself sometimes.

He is missed, but I guess he needs to vanish every now and then. Sometimes I think it's his own strange therapy where he goes to recollect himself and try to find himself. He's been lost for so long, he just needs a helping hand to help him walk his own path. I know I cant do that, I'm not what he needs right now, he only comes to me when he has interacting things to say, he only comes to me when theres nothing better to do.

Whatever he did to this girl I know he regrets it, It's just who he is, it's what he does and he cant help it. If you ask him to forget about it he'll leave the conversation and walk away disgusted.

His conscience is probably his biggest flaw.

Thanks d!O for a good tribute to my non-hero, the australian crocodile guy.

CRIKEY!

-"Days passed and nothing happened," he said while looking out through the window. The rain had trailed away along with the weekend and left him with some memories he didn't intend to forget.

-"Few words were barely exchanged. Sometimes a simple 'hello' or 'goodbye' seem to feel like a fucking effort." He continued after realizing nothing more interesting was happening outside.

It had been sometime after our last night out drinking. He had disappear for longer that I had actually thought. It certainly didn't feel that long to me, maybe because, even thought I don't really like to admit it, I didn't really miss him, that or I just simply thought he'd eventually come back

-"The awkwardness set it that night I guess, when we were both outside in the car just talking, not even smoking anymore." He told me It was her second time quitting and It was his first just barely having started smoking for the first time. I couldn't really still believe he was sitting there in front of me with with a cigarette in his hand. Never in my 25+ years of knowing had I seen him even interested in it.

His ashtray was full, which told me he had been there at least a couple of hours before he finally called me to tell me where he was so I could join him.

-"There was this strange silence in that car, it wouldn't have made much difference if church bells had been ringing, either way, that silence was a foreboding that something that barely even started was going to end."

-"Did you tell her what you did?" I asked really just being attentive and polite. I already knew the answer but it was the only thing I should ask to keep the conversation going and that was what he wanted, he needed to say with his own words what everybody else around already knew from all the gossip. Or at least what they thought they knew.

"I told her things would change, trying to finally sound convinced of something, you know? And I really am. It's just that maybe I took too long to actually make the words come out. I just have no idea."

He took a hit out of his newly lit cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. The amount of smoke coming from his mouth reminded me of his father and how strange it was that he blew so much more smoke than anybody else. I guess he's more like his father than we know. This scene was becoming a bit too distracting due to me not being able to be something other than surprised that he had taken up this habit.

-"She just said 'OK' and stared at the brick wall of her apartment building as if counting the bricks or looking for cracks. She felt distant since when I called her that morning."

This was becoming more of a monologue, more like a confessional me being the priest and him being on his knees telling me all this. He told that since then the few words they've spoken to each other have been superficial at best. He talked about how every time they'd' see each other he'd catch a glint of a smile that she'd try to hide from everyone else, trying to keep everything a secret as if that made it all more interesting and exciting, and he said it did. Everyone did try to keep these kinds of things to themselves, specially if it involved other people in the same group.

"Here, see this? It's a moon." he told me she was saying to him, "And if you hold it like this it'll tell you where it goes." "It was as if she transformed and became someone else. I don't blame her after all that happened. She's avoided me ever since."

-"The drunken nights were some of my most entertaining moments I've had." He said, making that familiar grin and taking a sip from his coffee. another habit he'd recently started. Apparently this new town he and I had shared with before he disappeared had become their playground. At least for a few days.

We continued talking over lunch but things got fuzzy after that. I could tell he wanted to keep talking about but felt as if he'd said enough for one day. I knew he was scared as hell of what had happened these last couple of days and that he'd try anything to make everything alright again. Neither him nor I knew what would come after all of this, the uncertainty bothered him terribly and it was making him feel his age

It's incredible how much you can age in two nights.

   This is me being taken for granted. It's not hard to say that never found myself so alone. It's easy to disappoint, It's better to place the blame on a name and point the finger at someone else.

   I'm being taken for granted, one day the sun will decide that it's time for him to rest for a while. Even then, in chaos and desperation, I'm expected to react, even then I'm taken for granted.

Summer after spring, like the dampness after rain. I'm to do what I'm expected, achieve but never control.
A wish after a shooting star, a dream while you sleep. Few care that mine are nightmares and that a shooting star is rarely seen.

   This is me being taken for granted. If you only knew how deeply you can cut with words, even deeper than with none at all.
   Am I trying to disappoint? Am I gong back to the room where everything new decided to die along with the rest of my soul?

   This is me being taken for granted, this is me being left behind.

   Es un desperdicio de nuestro tiempo viajar por todo este mundo y tener nuestros momentos. Es una lástima creer que todo esto lo creamos para olvidar; los insultos y los atardeceres, las fotos obligadas y sin merecer.

   Estamos haciendo esto por costumbre, nos están llevando de la mano pero las ya no se encuentran.

   En cuanto anochezca me volveré a ir. Nunca había visto un ...ya no te amo traducido en una sola palabra. Nunca había podido entender por qué no escucho tan bien como quisiera.

   Es un sentimiento mal acostumbrado esta sensación de haberme perdido en un lugar que conozco tanto. Es un sentimiento que me detiene el cuerpo; los silencios y las noches solo, las imágenes que no cambian y lo lejos que me siento.

   Continuamos un juego que no tiene el fin que queremos, ambos lo jugamos, uno de los dos tiene que salir perdiendo.

   En cuanto amanezca ya no estaré aquí. Nunca había visto un ... ya no te siento traducido en un rechazo, apenas sonreirías al instante de irme y te ni cuenta te dabas que nunca me fui.

   Es un desperdicio de nuestro tiempo esperar tanto si no nos damos nuestro espacio. Es una lástima que todo esto se desvanecerá como en una fotografía...

   Things can always change, at least that's what I always say. Just as people come go; the weather changes from sunny to thunder-storms, people can still go bad.

   I'm in something I can avoid right now, it's that whole "You can run but you cant hide" cliché, although I'm still not sure if I what I do want is to hide. I've been running from something for so long though so I'm allowed to ask myself "what's so wrong this time?"

   I've never been in such a perfect position as to hurt someone, me being so powerful and this person being so vulnerable, such power is hard to describe. Why would I want to hurt this person? Why would the ideas even cross my mnd? What is it that makes me believe I deserve so much that I might be willing to do what swims through my mind?

   It is sick and twisted I know but one can't help but think about it. My road would steer me exactly to the same place just through a different road. I might leave to farther places than I've ever thought and I might never come back. Emphasis on the word "might." I've made the hardest decisions in my life recently , I'm not sure if I can really re-live them. Who would?

   I can be evil, convincing and manipulative. I can be.

   I've been confessed to in ways I never believed could happen to me, more than one name has said there could be something, another said there is something, one more said It's willing to give it to me as it's been done to other people before me and finally another that desires and adventure. What difference would it make if I gave in to it?. I could be evil and let myself be carried away.

   It's been so difficult for the longest time.

   Then there's the most important name, the one I've been living with the longest. That name is the one I could hurt the most. And I'm wondering, why I'm even writting this?

   I'll leave and I'll be fighting this constantly.

   I'm leaving soon.

Hey, world. I just fucked up again.

-“So there’s this girl.” He said, trying not to sound too obvious. “She’s staying just a couple of blocks from where I live and she could be everything I ever wanted, if only I knew what I wanted.”

My thoughts were following his words like as if they were my own, I could taste every god damned sound coming out of his thinly, chapped lip mouth. I couldn’t really stand him for too long, his conversations always ended in the same way, with some girl.

-“So why don’t you go talk to her.” I replied thinking I had only said it in my head when in fact my mouth was doing it out loud.

-“What do you mean?" He asked “You know I already have someone, it’s what makes this whole situation so freaking difficult. You know? I have something relatively sure at home, yet I can seem to help but feel I need something different.”

-“Is this something new?” I asked, moderately interested know. For some reason, this conversation was going somewhere else and it was peaking my waning interest.

-“I can’t say. All I know is that right now I feel much more incomplete and in need than when I left the city. I don’t know, something about being the new person in town and being able to be ‘exotic’ again is something that entices me. Strange how it never was like this before.”

We barely spoke a word after that, whatever came out of our mouths after that didn’t go further than him giving me bad directions to whatever bar we were going to next that we did not know.

"This new town, there’s something about it," he says, "It’s the distance, It's just so far away from everything that I'm used to, everything I've grown to know." I just say it’s that we haven’t really found out how crappy it really is, even with all the run down building and torn down old redbrick factories, to him and I, It’s still shiny and new. A whole new playground for both of us to play in.

The bar was closed but we managed to find another one, the name or place really didn’t matter, our intention that night was to get out of the house and try and figure out how the night life of this town worked. We were the new people there.

One thing about the bars here is that one is not that much different from the other, there’s the same type of people, same beer same drunken noise and same drunken freshmen, the dart board, ping-pong tables, at least they all look alike to me.

He had started talking about something that took me a couple of minutes to actually pay attention too, my ears, eyes and head were still getting used to all the loud music, voices and high pitched giggles coming from freshman girls hanging out with the seniors. It felt so good to be out of that whole scene, having left it behind more than five years ago made me feel a little bit older, a little bt wiser than most of the people there.

-“…like not knowing what’s better, you know? I have no idea how this girl really is, the only thing circling ‘round my head is that she’s here right now.”

I couldn’t help but thinking she was at the bar when he really just meant “in town.” I have a problem when I talk to people and that is I take things they say to literally, but not seriously. This was one of those moments.

-“So, ok, you like her, we know that. Do you like her more than your girl?” I asked. He hesitated and took a drink from his dirty pint and made an expression telling me that the beer was bad.

-“Hard to say, buddy. All I know is that whatever history she and I have is coming back to bite us and it’s coming back good and hard. It is at least for me.” His eyes trailed off a little inside his beer, I knew he was remembering some old memory from the smile on his face. “I like her enough to consider the worst, you know?”

I knew exactly what he meant, unfortunately.

The kicked us out of the bar eventually after a couple hours, neither him or I have gotten used to the fact that we're two hours ahead and without us noticing it get late really quick. I drove him back to his apartment and we said goodbye, It's funny though, If I had known that was going to be the last night I'd see him in a very long time I'm not sure I would have done anything differently that night.

The next day I went to the woods behind my apartment. I had found this little niche where one of the trees had fallen down but was still leaning against a tree in such a way that when I climbed up it gave me a nice view of whatever sunset or sunrise I was in front of. This is my place to think and write, where I go to be nowhere and to be everywhere, at least inside my head, all of this in the same time.

I didn’t see him for a couple of weeks after that night at the bar but I heard he had broken up with his long-time girlfriend. I was surprised to say the truth; I didn’t think he’d have it in him to do it again after all that had happened. I haven’t heard from him since and have no idea where he’s headed or where he is, I’ve talked to people who’ve seen him but they’re not really sure whether he has happy or depressed the last time they saw him, they always tell me: “Well, he was just there.” Someone told he had heard him muttering to hs drink something about moving away but nobody knows where. He's always been a bit of a nomad, always enjoying a new place as long as It's new then moving on when he's seen it all. I know as much as he does that this is what will probably doom him, I just wonder when I think about him, with how he is and what he does, is the world big enough for him to never run out on him?

-"I can't really say, buddy?"