Continental Shift

Just mourning the life I once knew. You live with each other so long, you get used to them just being there. Took a lot of things for granted. Took everything for granted. Felt like I was sleepwalking and now just waking up. 

Break-ups do that. There's always a point after a break-up when you second guess your decision. Because you miss the other person or are suddenly reacquainted with the feeling of being alone. And it kinda terrifies you. 


Then if you're a masochist, you'll pick up the phone and call, to hear a familiar voice, maybe fish and see if they'll bite, whatever it may be. 

Eventually you'll realize that you're the only one still standing at the train station waiting and perhaps talking to yourself. Most probably.

And as you're standing there, this sequence happens:

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuuuuuuck.

Well, that was really shitty. But I can't stand around here and smoke cigarettes all day.

I still got a lot of time on my clock.

And then suddenly, like a scene in a movie,

everything is possible.


But before you reach the 'everything is possible' part of your life, they really have a way of making you go through the ringer.

Funny thing is, I don't know how many times I've said goodbye to old lives. You'd think I'd be used to all the goodbyes and the never-see-you-agains. But then maybe it's a good thing that I don't see my life as a string of familiar faces and forgotten names. All the different lives I've inhabited, each was deeply loved. And each, incredibly missed.