it's in this place where you have to look for those few patches of light overhead to see the blue sky that i have spent a few night shaking my head as we both compare notes about what's happening around us. and sharing a bottle of brandy between us, the conversation almost always comes back to his personal frustrations and how it is to let someone inherit his secret ambitions...

it is with talks late into the night like these that the impression that i have more in common with my father than i would dare admit, captures my thoughts and doesn't quite let me go. and coupled with the things i got from my mother, i am even more scared of how volatile the mixture can easily get.

like three nights ago when i wasn't able to hold the sky up my shoulders and pieces of it began crashing down as i crashed into the door of this unfamiliar house crying. they could not understand what was happening, and neither could i tell them the truth; it is something better left out of the conversation lest i open up unresolved issues...

i reminded myself that i purposefully chose to got to this other side of the city, the side that is always forgotten in my people's everyday reckoning of things, to finally bury these formless feelings in this living graveyard of extinguished dreams.

my feet were uneasy treading these new paths everyday; it can never belong to this place.

but i see many, too many people with smiles on their lips, but with eyes that know the weight of the skies; a weight that they are forcing themselves to forget.