black lollipops
On Thursday for the most part I pretended that I didn't know a soul, hid from everyone and went downtown without a coat on.

It suprises me sometimes, how much I love solitude. It reminds me of when I was on hikes last year and forgot to drink, until I remembered and with one sip realized how thirsty I really was.

I ended up going to all my favourite places where I used to hide when I was in highschool. My favourite stairwells. The roofs of buildings. I hid in my favourite used bookstore for two hours and made friends with the owner.

Later on, I bought a beer and was given a black hard candy with the bill. There was this stage in highschool when I always had a black lollipop in my mouth. The epitome of a goth accessory I guess. It was night by this point and I was rolling this hard candy in my mouth and clambering up a wall to get to my favourite place to read. I haven't really gone there since I got back from B.C. From this spot you can see all of the city. All I could taste was black licorice and I felt like I did when I was fifteen or so, and I could feel small without trying to.

Then it hit me, that I have become so sick of nostalgia.


All the time I hear from people my age, about how they wish they could be like they were last year/when they were seven/when they were in highschool/whenever.

I can't entertain these thoughts. I will be as I am now, not as I was. And God help me, I will be better tomorrow. Or at least I'll be different. But I'll aim for an unknown future rather than throw back to a romanticized past.
I wax Kerouac-like on my life thusfar, but for shitsakes I'm twenty. There's more to it than this.

After that I sat on the wet brick and prayed like I haven't before. Ever prayed with ferocity?
It was like every fibre of my being was focused into my words, my heart, the dirty knees of my jeans. I bit down on the black candy, and spat it out.