sometimes i find that my memory deserts me. i remember the things i’ve done, the places i’ve been, but i look at it all now through old windows where the glass has melted a bit. it’s far away and it doesn’t seem like it was ever real. i can’t be there again.

you can never go back.

i know, listening to this band now, that i had a friend, i had a friend that meant everything to me, and i flew to the middle of the country so we could go to this concert together. my plane circled and circled and there was talk of being diverted, and i was terrified because then we would miss the concert and we had understood each other over this music. i know these facts but the truth of this no longer lives in me.

is this how we grow up?

and despite this disconnect in memory there are the things that i won’t see or do or buy anymore, the concepts that i eschew on principle. things that i see and the bitterness rises on my tongue. i don’t want a part of this anymore. i don’t want a part of the things that remind me, anymore. i want to leave it behind.

the connections we cannot sever.

i woke up in the middle of the night and thought i was watching a movie with lorraine bracco, and i was thinking of when i first watched the sopranos. i was a black tornado dust storm. a vodka flavored disaster. i thought of the beginnings of my connections, my relationships, how it’s all always started. what infatuation is like. what it leads to.

we all come from the same place.

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