A loaded lost soul

A strange comment was made to me earlier this week. It went something like this.. “And most of all (among the many things I am proud of you), would be not quitting on me as a friend.”

I don’t know why I did not press further, when days later; the phrase still rings clearly in my mind. And it especially weighs heavy this Friday night cos well, it’s Friday and Girl Friday is at home alone.

Lying in my bed, I think of you
That song goes through my head, the one we both knew
In each line lies another line full of sacred sound
But you're outside where the companies dream and the money goes round

I really should have asked you then – have you done anything lately that warrants me giving up on you as a friend? For I am not the sort to give up on those I count close to me. If anything, I am amazed that there are still some who stand by me, and count me as one of their own.

Lying in my bed
Watching my mistakes

But there’s nothing that I can do about it tonight – the one night a week when we would sit and talk like normal people do, not thru emails written in between meetings or on a crackling mobile phone line while we trudge thru traffic. Cos you’re off somewhere, chasing contracts and contacts. Unreachable.

I listen to the band
And the drums beat in my head
Pianos chime the sound in this prison of the house

So I guess I would have just to bid my time, and hope that when there is a right time, to be able to gather the courage to actually ask you in person, and not sweep it under the carpet like I always do.

And as the illness comes again
Can you hear me through the rain..

If you ask me a year ago, I did not think that I would be sitting here, writing about this and that and nothing at all. Putting down words that really should be said out loud, and not played over and over in my head like a broken record.

As I listen to the band..

If you ask me a year ago, I would probably say – eat, drink and be Mary. For Mary has a far more interesting life when life is nothing but living for the next Friday with plenty of boozing. And Mary never lived further than for the moment.

As I sing the silent song..

If you ask me a year ago, I wouldn’t have thought of willing it to rain, and rain down heavy, so I could go walk in it just to have my head be still.

Mime each lonely word

It’s not whining. Nor it is pining. It’s just an oddity cos a moment has become a pattern. Yet, there is nothing but chaos. For life has not only become crazy professionally, but it’s become utterly crazy personally as well.

How did I get here in a span of 10 weeks?

Alone but not lonely

And I wonder why I have decided that 31 shall past and 32 shall come without the aid of any spirits.

You and me
Alone but loaded.........

Could it be … that life is better off.. when you’re a lost soul?