i missed the call twice before picking up, half
drunk and whole tired.
less than three minutes, on the other end he laughs
about it, figures that it was
"about time" and "long time comin'". i listen and think that hearing train screams in the distant doesn't
make the impact hurt any less. everyone's got themselves convinced that if they prepare for
tragedy, they can control it.
people give themselves too much credit.
he plays the role of a man who is relieved rather than wrecked. i spend a lot of time around
actors so i don't really ever know what to trust.
i hang up after two minutes of silence and weep, quickly and hard, to get it out.
our generation inherited a shame that our parents had no time for,
and i cry only for the reflection of myself in tiny broken souls,
maybe that makes me selfish
maybe that makes me empathetic.
how do you know if you are the best or the worst
person in the world.