October 2nd, 2003
Stop crying your heart out
I’m twenty-three years old. Every day, one of thousands, is a string of successes and failures, things learned and forgotten. And behind it all there is a faded photograph, a boy sitting in the backyard with a look of wonder and innocence on his face. Time has left paint spills, chips, wood shavings, wrinkles and water rings over the once glossy kodacolor paper– a tableau of precision, fidelity, weakness and pain. But unchanging are two grey-blue eyes.
I was pissed off at work today after being there until midnight, but lying in my room waiting for the inescapable sleep, I listen to oasis and my heart sobs just a little… then a hint of a wry smile folds across my tired face.
