The Search

I believe that I am searching for happiness
In the pages of worn books that line library shelves
Literally outside of the realm of possibility
Sometimes even in the notes and lyrics of a tune
It is hard to be happy when the world itself is so loud
I search for reprieve in the buds of my headphones

I guess that I cannot be too upset that the world cannot give me what it is I am looking for
It would make more sense if I was even aware of what it is that I’m looking for
I don’t believe I can touch it
Taste it
See it
But I am more than sure I will be able to feel it
Not with these hands perhaps
But in the way I may smile
Or cry
Or simply do nothing at all but dwell in the admiration of it

All I know is that I am too old to peruse through pages for adventure alone
Life is too demanding
Time and bills wait for no man
With my eyes drinking in every word of a novel
And my head swimming in imaginations of me being the one in those pages
I am too distracted
I can’t even convince myself that living out here is rewarding enough
Though I know I cannot live in there
Nor can a song named after me
Written about me
Or for me
Fill this endless void
This ravishing hunger
The world perceives me as an adult
Yet I feel like such a child
I don’t know who I am
Who I am going to be
Maybe that’s why I am an adult
As a child I never fathomed that I couldn’t be whatever I wanted
Now I can’t fathom that there is a chance to be whoever she is

I do not write these words because I am quite skilled at it
I’ve never thought myself so
But I am more able to pen them
Than to speak them
In a place where no one is really where they want to be
Or exactly where they need to be
It is surprising that grave misunderstanding can fall on those
Who choose to be discontent with a settle
And determined to discover
I buy book after book after book
My shoes are falling apart
I’m matching brown with black outfits
My clothes are getting snug
I haven’t gotten a winter coat in over five years
I’ve learned to layer
Just so that I can buy adventure
I can soothe this burning
With songs that seem to validate that somewhere someone feels just as I

But there are times when I cannot read
I cannot listen
I feel so empty
And so restless
Unable to do anything
And desiring to do something
But the words are not enough
The music not enough
And I realize that the ropes that are holding me
Are just little threads
Easily offended
More easily snapped
To survive on those things is impossible
And I am even more lost than before
The destination remains the same
But the path also remains hidden
when I have recovered enough to shake immobilization
I am not sure where to move or how
So again I search among the shelves
The high and low notes
I submit myself
To the cycle once again


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