There I lie. I lie in the chopped grass in the center of the field. In this valley no one can see me. I am in my sanctuary. Their words wrap around me and as I assemble there, the puzzle, I attempt to dig into myself. Bat in hand becomes my shovel as I drive it into my heart. But I cannot go deep enough. I cannot penetrate my soul. Not with their words. I only reach ores of this world, only rocks defined by ages that will wilt away in their seasons. I am far from my core.
My mind often wanders off of their rhapsody. Onto the cold wind seeping through my clothes. Grabbing hold of my attention. Manipulating me into shivers. Surely the mere air is not as powerful as the songs of my kin? Surely their words are immortal as I am. I feel the muscles grow underneath my back and my legs become strong and durable as I run. I only know this prime.
I know the sweet kisses of young girls under my high school’s trees at lunch. I know the approval of my coach as I run faster than I ever have. I know how to put the shapes of our bodies onto paper. I know the immortal heroes in my books. I know the fearless rebels in my movies. I know my three scars, the one on my leg, the one on my chin and the one below my lip.
Now, in present time, as the cold wind took me away, the cold wind brings me back. I am not with my young sweethearts. I am not with my coaches or my paper. I am not with my rebels or heroes. I am with my scars. I am with their words. I am with the cold wind and the short grass. I am with myself.
I am taken away by distractions. I want to be close to my soul. I want to hold and look at its depths, unclothed and naked. I want to see the curves and its sides and the habits and the movements of my soul. I want to be close to myself. I am not close to myself.
I am close to these words and these girls and approval and fiction. But I am not any of those things. That is not who I am!
Am I the contents of my heart? Am I the contents of my actions? Am I mortal? I am out here to ask these questions. To even ask why these questions are stirring in my heart to begin with. In my failure, as I search for definition I have found a case of buttons to put on my coat. I am not unclothing and I am not even putting on more clothes. I am putting buttons on my coat. I like girls. I like indie rock and roll music. I like comic books. Just buttons on a coat.
Back in the present I have discarded my clothes. I have discarded my headphones. I am kneeling on my blanket. This world offers me no solution. The papers are lost and the heroes are forgotten. My body fails me. The love of my girl dulls into gray. I grow out of these songs like a pair of jeans that don’t fit me. The alcohol and tobacco isn’t worth and the weed doesn’t take away the pain. I am not even into drugs anyways.
I lay naked on the blanket in the center of this sanctuary and I have discarded this world. All I feel is the cold wind getting stronger and stronger. And I bow and kneel before something stronger. I have no other choice now, I am tired of fighting and struggling, I am weary and ready to admit who I am. That’s what I want to know isn’t it?
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