Green

Somebody told me I was green. "Welcome to the club." He said, "You came from a land of blue. You're now in a land of yellow. You'll never be yellow, but you can never be blue again. Welcome to the green."

My thoughts immediately turned to Kermit. Do I want to spend each day the color of the leaves? Sure I do. Even though it's not that easy, it's the life for me. I will be- No, I am. Green. That's what I thought.

I guess green goes better with yellow than with blue, or maybe it's just easier to adjust to a new life when you don't have to worry about the ghosts from the old one. Or maybe it really was all just a dream. Maybe my top has finally stopped spinning after 6 months in dream-time (be proud of me Leo, I made it back to the States). I really hope that they were real.

Back here, in the blue, it's harder to push forward. Guilt works not like a millstone, but like a rubber-band, pulling me back to the muck, pulling me back to my sin and self-centered misery. Pulling me back to my old crutches. Just one cigarette, just a little bit tipsy, just a few more minutes. Just indulge for a moment, you've earned it after all.

I found out that I'm more comfortable around children than adults. Give me four 4-12 year olds over three 18-80 year olds any day. Maybe it's because they're still saturating? Not yet blue enough for me to feel the gulf? Probably not, my Dad's the same way.

I love my family, but they're very hard. I love my friends, but they're so far away. I love my God, but contrary to what my mother may believe, sometimes doing the right thing is far from easy, even with his help.

My dear one, so strong and fragile, a wonderful paradox, I'm already wondering if I've been too much spoiled to keep your love. That's as flowery as it's gonna get honey, so write that on your mirror or whatever. Fact is: I think I'm going back to where I came from. I think I'm going back, and I don't want to bring you with me. I don't trust myself with precious things, especially not back there.

At the height of my madness, I turned even cigarettes into oracles. My alcoholic brother is afraid of white lighters, so I suppose superstition runs in the family. I don't want to return to that mindset. It was beautiful yes, but it was hollow, empty. It was a glass tube that sparked brilliantly in the desert sunlight, but I have since tasted water from an earthenware jug. Considering my surroundings, I'd like to keep the jug.

I have so many analogies for life and how it works. So many things I could say, but most of them would just end up confusing the issue (much like the above paragraph). The point of the thing is this: I don't feel like I belong, and I wonder if I'll ever know that feeling again.