It should have rained last night. Maybe it did - it's hard to tell sometimes. Maybe I just wanted it to rain. Maybe it was raining for me, and I just didn't want to be out in it all alone.
The sounds fill the room so much that you can choose which ones to block out and which ones to let through. Everything's a game that fills time. Everything chews on the moment until you find yourself somewhere else. How long does it take until you can make yourself believe that the air conditioner is drowning out the television? The faucet dripping? The lack of conversation? The silence?
She used to hum. Tap pencils, turn pages. Spoons would play their own rhythms against coffee mug ceramic. Sheets would rustle. Voices carry. There was this one spot in the hall that creaked just a little if you walked over it. Creaked just enough.
The sounds fill the room so much that you can choose which ones to block out and which ones to let through. Everything's a game that fills time. Everything chews on the moment until you find yourself somewhere else. How long does it take until you can make yourself believe that the air conditioner is drowning out the television? The faucet dripping? The lack of conversation? The silence?
She used to hum. Tap pencils, turn pages. Spoons would play their own rhythms against coffee mug ceramic. Sheets would rustle. Voices carry. There was this one spot in the hall that creaked just a little if you walked over it. Creaked just enough.
Now there's nothing.Some nights you don't notice. Some nights you take the steps forward. Some times you're able to fill the room with so many voices and sounds that it's almost like nothing else matters.
Everything's a game that fills time.I don't know why last night was so hard. I still don't have a reason why everything seemed to be made of sharp glass, and that nothing could be turned up loud enough.
All I know is that it should have rained.
[Listening to: Staind, "Right Here"]
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