Fighting

The dark of the sun-not-yet risen is the dark to greet my so wandering thoughts as of late. But at this precious moment it is the dark of night, of night-time music like This Mortal Coil, Julie Cruise, and the Sisters of Mercy, of whiskey in ice-cubed glasses, of low-sweeping eyelashes swaggering hips liquored lips.

I do love the night; I do miss to be alive and awake alone chasing thought trains uninterrupted.

I spent the day with a dear old friend today, one who always brings me back to asking questions about who we are, who we've become compared to who and how we were as children - a time that seemed like far to little ago. Then life just happens. Or, it appears, has been happening. We've been watching and participating but a disturbing amount of it feels passive. When we were teenagers we raged against the transition from childhood to adulthood, we kicked and fought against what the world would force us to become and as adults for the most part we just...acquiesce. We lay down our weapons and keep on our armor. I would like to think of ways to keep fighting.