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Alida: A 23-year-old Canadian exploring the infinite abyss that is New York City.

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recent posts

Uncle Richard, me, and James Earl Jones - Tuesday, Apr. 04, 2006
So beautiful when the boy smiles - Sunday, Apr. 02, 2006
One way or another - Sunday, Dec. 25, 2005
Way up high - Saturday, Dec. 10, 2005
Reason to start over new - Friday, Dec. 09, 2005

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2004: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2003: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2002: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2001: May June July August September October November December

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Diaryland
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I haven't written a poem in a long time. Inspiration hasn't been hitting me lately. Not like I haven't had enough to write about, but I can't seem to get it down, even in the abstract, nonsensical rhythms of free verse poetry. It just isn't coming.

More is coming back, though. I'm coming back out of the grey world, I think, back into the real world, back into the colors of life, not just existance. Sometimes I think that I'm just doing such a good job of convincing everyone else that I'm back to "me" (if they even knew that something was wrong in the first place) that I'm convincing myself as well as I'm convincing them. Other times, though, I think that I really am coming out, back into the light. It's a long, hard journey, though. As close as it is, as much as it's "only one step back," it's still the hardest step back to ever have to take. It's easier to stay in the grey, convincing myself that seeing the occasional glimpse of the real world is enough. But, "we have seen a better world, and this place is not enough." I can't be satisfied with this after being in the other for so long, after living in the real world. I can't go back to this fake existance of apathy.

But it keeps coming down to, "tomorrow, I'll live." Tomorrow isn't good enough, though, because tomorrow never comes. It's always somewhere just beyond the horizon--you can see the glow, like the sunrise, but it's not completely there. It's just enough to tantalize and give a taste of what's to come--beautiful in its own way, but only as a promise, not as a reality. It, in and of itself, isn't enough. Tomorrow is only a taste of what today has to offer.
infinite || abyss