The Rubble

What else is there to say?

I just got home.

I'm tired.

Tired of all the conflict one day, and all the tranquillity the next. Tired of knowing that there will be another unnecessarry argument. Another pointless apology for comment that should never have been needed in the first place.

What am I seeking for, amid the rubble of my life? Old dreams? Old goals? Old visions? All my old dreams were naive. All my old goals seem far off, and placid in comparison to my life. What is there left for me, that is worth salvaging?

What part of me should live on through all this? The part most capable of survival, the hard cold edges and the calculated smile, or the part I once thought most worth loving, the innocent eyes and the laughing care for others that I once owned as part of my self?

"Everything it seems I like's
A little bit stronger
A little bit thicker
A little bit harmful for me."

- Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk by Rufus Wainright