Nostalgia for Other's Memories

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Have you ever felt you’re missing out on something… something better, or bigger, or brighter? Sometimes in the morning, when you wake up from a dream and realize its only impossible once it’s gone. In the midday, sitting, thinking, wishing for more. Right before you drift off to sleep, when the mind forgets constrictions and dissolves. At midnight, when you enter a world of uncertainties, neither conscious nor asleep.
Every morning I wake up, and like a shroud a slight haze settles back over me, left off from the day before. Evaded for only a while.
Alarm clock. Stumble to sink. Splash… shake the dreams off. Drip. Never knowing if it is tear or water. How much else is there? Something outside these experiences, the back of my mind tells me. There must be people who are having old adventures, just cast from new molds. They live in sepia toned photographs, they laugh used laughs, they cry tears someone has already cried before them. I see the old glamour rising and filling their days like waves. I plan to join them, even if I drown in it.
Some day I’ll know the inside of the transparent exhibit of fame. People will be pressed up against the other side, breath fogging the glass. A thousand faces in the crushing throng, indistinguishable, interchangeable. There is no individual, there is no identity. Away, away, they pant for the life that they can’t achieve. This life inside the zoo. So desirable.
Crystal, rich leather, polished brass light; slow smooth eddies of the same people constant as the tide. Comfort in the familiarity, the nuance of a life you should have born in to…
But you weren’t. And neither was I. So lets just put a freeze on this frame, step back, catch our breath… move through the day coated in mediocrity, then sink back into the dent in the sheets and dream some more.





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