16 - retrospect, a little and briefly

fifty-one minutes past midnight, fifty-one minutes past the last day in this country.

when change breathes this close to my face i am always silenced, always caught staring, always listening to the buzz in my head. i always look like i have nothing to say, but i do, i just get caught up in thinking about it or having conversations in my head or using every ounce of me to remember what's happening. to the people on monday night - i'm sorry all i could tangibly do was watch my fingers play with a packet of ketchup.

when change breathes this close to my face i always want to ask, How are you, What did you do today, What will you be doing tomorrow, Can you say you are happy?

what do you do when you're being pushed out the door while still trying to put the shoes on, still brushing your teeth, still looking into people's faces, still putting your earrings on, still trying to say what matters, still checking if you have everything in your bag, still counting your books, still writing a letter, still catching a breath?

it's an hour and six minutes past the last day now, and i am wondering how different it would have been if i hadn't spent a whole year being a hermit and putting my life on hold. would i have been drawn to the same people? would i be the same person that i am now? when Life started in summer 2007, then began these questions and the subsequent musing upon it. i have come to terms with the fact that that year of "putting life on hold" was a majestic momentous grand movement of introspection, which saw the end of my self then and saw the beginning of a renewed one.

somewhat ironic (and painful and wonderful) that this renewed one was to see the end of my self and was to see the beginning of an authentic one.

how many ends? how many peeled layers? an hour and eighteen minutes past the last day now; two thousand two hundred and thirty-two hours past the eighteenth year it's only been. no cookies for the one who can tell me how many more ends, unless you're the one who knows more than the apple does.

but you get a cookie if you know i'm terrified of these ends, if you know i'm excited about these ends... and two cookies if you're going to sit with me and these ends.