Sunday, May 8, 2011

Things and longings and buses.

Sitting on a bus, leaving my lovely Brisbane, I'm feeling nostalgic.
It's odd for me.
I very rarely felt nostalgic last year when I left - perhaps because I knew I'd be back a week later.
This time, I don't really know, and it makes me pretty darn sad. I would like to leave, leave my work and find a job, just move to Brisbane again and forget about this stint at home. Just experiencing the loveliness of saying I quit to IGA would be more than enough.
But I can't, and I am rather irritated by that.

I was up in Brisbane last night, participating in a quasi Amazing Race. I have an excellent friend, Joshua. He made it work. And Glen and I got in teams and raced around the city, Glen busting out the awkward turtle whenever he found the slightest opportunity. Which there were hundreds, I quickly learned.

I regret not wearing heels. When you consider the night, it would have been darn painful, but the Cons were as horrible to run in as a glass slipper studded in thorns would have been.

I don't know. The night itself was amazing, but moving further and further away from the night and the places I ran, I'm getting less euphoric and more melancholy. What am I doing now? I'm listening to PotC soundtrack, on a bus. I'm fighting the urge to GTA the bus and turn back to Brisbane. I'm stupidly overthinking events that I wish so very very much would happen, but never will because whenever I wish incessantly it doesn't usually happen as I dream. And once I would like it to. Just to see what it's like when you hold at dreams and get them in your hands and inhale their magic, their faint cotton-candy scent, and just look at them. If my dreams were a colour, they'd be red. Bright red, deep red, scarlet, vibrant, passionate, slightly too bright to go with anything else but clashing in brilliant form.

It's pathetic I'm going on like this; my life is far from hard. But I don't know, I just want a dream to come to light.

Just, once, I'd like to know what love in its romanticised sense is like. Just so I know.

The true purpose of this post was really to wax lyrical about shenanigans. Constant listening to Ben Folds changed that.

I apologise for a horrifically ridiculous post, dear 7 followers.

Location:Somewhere around the Gold Coast.

No comments:

Post a Comment