Sentimental

by Noise Pollution

I don’t know where my head’s been, lately. I’ve been daydreaming and nightdreaming and then scolding myself for doing either, because it doesn’t get me any closer to where I want to be. Then I remember that I have no idea where I want to be, and I scold myself for having all these stupid existential thoughts and musings when I can’t even figure that much out.

I wish that I could just figure that shit out already. It’d give me some desire, some drive to get my life straightened out. I don’t have any of it, because I don’t even know what the hell I want to work towards.

Well, maybe that’s not quite right. I do know what I want. I just also know that it’s impossible. I want to play music for the rest of my life. I want to tour, to see things and meet people that I could have never even imagined before. I want to get all sentimental and win the heart of the girl I love. I want there to be a girl I love.

I want to sit on a staircase and talk for hours and hours with people I care about.

I want to watch fireworks with a girl, and maybe hold hands, if I can manage that much.

I want to walk in the rain getting soaked on my way home, but be okay with it.

I want to lean over a railing with a cigarette in my hand, and spout something profound.

It’s all nonsense, I know. It’s all a bunch of stupid dreams that my stupid head has decided matter more than the road ahead of me does. I don’t know. I just hope that the road ahead of me has a few places to rest and look at the stars along the way.

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