Life as I know it...

...Get a move on...Running towards the finish, yet flawed by deterrents, obstacles and distractions along the way...Judged and criticized for god-given beauty, natural talent, raw emotion and quality of character, though never stopped as she steers the ship forward...She's momentarily blind-sided by a football to the head, that leaves a sense of permanency that permeates through her core...Few relate, fewer understand, and is most of all, liked by others...But this is where our story diverges off the beaten path and lands someone along the lesser of the two. She takes moments to understand others, though remains too caught up within her to really focus longer than 25 seconds on anything outside of her own accounts of herself. But as unrequited love does madden the truest of hearts, so does neglecting one sprits' and dreams for the future...These thoughts pass through her head as she walks past the homeless man who she does not pity, nor reject the mere existing of; For as long as she can remember, she wanted to know more about them: what was their defining moment...you know, out of their life to that point? What causes added up, leading to this resulting homelessness? What was the root cause or driver that propelled him to neglect his dreams or squash his spirit? It was just one of those things -- just one of those crazy things," he says, before holding his head in his hands and crying. And through his tears, upward signs on both sides of his mouth became increasingly present; eventually giving way to 2 bands of white, segmented into Stonehenge-like miniatures though compressed together, separated by the pink whistler that those who like to go down know all to well. And I knew what I knew just then...And like that, she felt at ease...she knew that all of her pain, her trials and travails, her joys and her sorrows, had all amounted to this moment.

Curiously, she would continue on and sit in her seat and type her type and talk her talk as she did every day---but this day, some very important businessmen strolled by on their way too work, looking as confused as she once was, cocking to look at what they perceived were "some hot looking legs" before carrying on to No-Man's Land --- Places of love and hate, relationships and enemies, information sharing and soul pilfering, where Gen X was never going to achieve the executive leadership level, constrained at the top by our parents generation, who now fill those leadership roles and from the bottom's up by a generation of epic movement known as "Gen Y"...Dramatics aside, it sounds the same, she thought, and right before her eyes, in one fell swoop, she was absorbed by the sea of suits and one in particular. On the path and spit out into the suburban surroundings outside of her comfort zone, she landed in a cage, bound by gilded glory, or so she thought. And as she watched the men merge into the background, as one by one, they succumbed to the pressure to conform to the association's rules and tardiness-policies for dues & fees that aren't received on time. A few remained, holding on to anything they could, as though futility was not a concept to take lightly, offering up moments of kindness and clarity of mind, uniqueness in music-taste, hobby choices and dramatic arts preferences...some with salt and pepper shakers on their head, others with a few strands of thread the color of a raven's back...One with eyes that transferred the soul of the earth in the depth of color, while others reflected the luminescent transference of the sky. And the trees peered into the girls eyes where pools became streams, and back into suburbia where cookie-cutters pressed down into plywood piles to create entire worlds of pastel balconies and turrets big enough for 3 + 1(don't forget the gleam in the eye) with luxury gas-swallowers designed for different terrains next to the recycling bins in the garage, and only offset by the pale lime and peach-cicle color scheme swirls on the four walls and ceiling of each little, single-unit container. Amazing, she thought, as the last ones cited examples of their intentions and feelings and concerns in hopes of execution-avoidance. She wavered; walls became easels to the girl, as though they were propping up a weary canvas as it is stretched across a picture frame...She regains composure, but realizes that she has lost the most precious thing to her.

In this moment of moments, she realized she had lost her sight; lost sight of her vision --

--In a deep and dark cave, one sees the faint path not too far from the one she was currently traveling -- And that path seemed to glisten, while ear would all but listen, to the leaves rustle in the distance, as though dancing to a tune; she called him all things; rainbows, the sun and her moon, so beautiful are rainbows, and that was what she called him, color in a black and white world, support when she needed--can you believe it? "it will never happen, I love another, not woman, but child, for this lifetime, I am taken, so you can never be real, never-no-how-no way,"
With regret and a forced sigh, the cruelty continues..."you were an infatuation, no more than a beneficial friend."clouds of strength once carried your problems, and soon it had to end," Challenging everything she understood, she stood, but for a moment, renting more space to the consciousness invaders with the biggest check, spited by life, addressed 'To who she thought she was but found out she wasn't" --"I leave this world a ventriloquist citing love's unrequited loss--a real tragedy, a tragedy of comedic intent -- implied wealth found at the scene, left by design, and intent, says the heroine of our little story--- oh and by the way, you cant take it with you; the cake on the table is off-white, and the bride continues to mingal, with businessmen and admirerers and those who claim both, stand in line for a glance of the swallow's couture if you must. But then she hears a faint sound, a piercing screetch in fact, accusing our herorine, mocking her, for merely being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and letting that one businessman create a nest, a padded den, a cloud of feathers, a lofty skyscraper of leather; he represented all things jolly, all things comfy, others lofty, some dirty at best; with a story to read, to read to her until she's asleep, where quiet soles would wake her dreams, where contradictions mask intentions, and her vision, lost but not forgotten, became her mantra, her restated goal, and proof to all around her that great things happen tp people constantly judged, who, like perception, is baked a little in reality and a little in subconscience exits to stage right.
--And so be it...what will be, will be, a cliché's so easy to see when one reinvents themselves --> but what happened to this chic one crazy, crazy night, remains locked away in her mind --> once she let me in...seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, hours became nights, eyes dusted with bright magenta-filled skies, offering the world my fabulous flights...great fun..."but just one of those things,"--She says as she turns to walk away--"Wait...," says the breathe-less figure as she moved relentlessly towards the abstract shadow of nights casting off pinstriped-barn lantern-lit lake. It was the tree who looked a bit beat-down, run-down, down into the ground, as though the down-trodden could be plunged any deeper into the ground. "It was always you, and you alone, who could change the path you were on." There was no more power to his hold, the chains around her heart were broken that day, by that tree, the tree of all trees, who saw through the sea of commonalities and generalizations to find her, standing alone, in the shadows, sorting through the rubbish, trying to find the piece of her she lost when she lost her vision...