Tuesday, September 21, 2010
It’s the art of living everywhere and living nowhere.
That’s what my mama said today when I told her that I don’t want to renew my license plates in any other state but Colorado because it’s too much trouble.
It’s the art of being numb enough to feel nothing. And leave everyone so that you feel nothing.
That’s what I told myself when I left Aspen, the first place that I ever did anything for myself, to go out into the Great Unknown, to find God knows what.
It’s the art of taking a deep breath and moving on.
That’s what my best friend told me the first time that my heart got broken. And we sat together in the park. And I looked at him. And I felt a spark. And I knew that’d we’d never be ok. But that it’d be ok. And that, by a simple twist of fate, it’d all be ok.
It’s the art of knowing when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em.
That’s what I told myself when I decided to turn my back on that little something real that I’d found. Because I felt like it was a crime to feel too much at any one time. And I told myself that we’d meet again with a simple twist of fate. If not here, then on the other side.
It’s the art of telling a lie.
Just tell me a lie. If it’s true. He woke up and she was gone. He got up and put his clothes back on. He got up and saw the note she’d left. He got up and saw the simple twist of fate.
And I think about it every night when I’m wrapped up in his arms.