I pine for something that no longer exists. I am sitting in a city that is decaying into something that other people say is more beautiful. It is definitely newer, but I’m not sure if pretty is how I would describe it. This city has been scrubbed of its charisma. The charm has washed down the sidewalk and into the gutter, only to drift away to some distant city that right now is too rough around the edges and too far away from here for anyone’s palate.
I wonder how much longer I can stay here before I have to leave. I walk down these streets that are hazy with memories that can never repeat. I can never relive those moments. I can never revisit those taco shops and bars. The people in these memories are gone or dead. The moment as I knew it is gone. The moment I loved will never come back.
Sometimes it is sunny in my dreams. The person I used to be looks good in that light. Me, today? I am slinking into a new existence. This is not a time for dreaming. This is my time for doing. There is nothing romantic about a reality over which I have complete control but no power. It was beautiful when hope hadn’t been precluded by poorly executed bad decisions. I have built this monster of a moment in which I am living. This is my beast, and mine alone.
I was supposed to live in a castle on the beach with the wind in my hair. Instead I am here, where it is stale and dark between the neon lights. The trash in the corner is mounting like anxiety, and there are no more doors out. I am here until I am nowhere, and before I am nowhere I will have to make do with right now.