looking through old pictures and i feel nostalgic. i miss this guy. we were never incredibly close friends, but i could always count on him to listen, he gave good hugs and piggy back rides. one of many folks i wish could have been my brother.
…my consciousness drifts and I have forgotten what I look like. I pass my reflection in a blackened window & I may not recognize myself. This is not an identity crisis as I understand the phrase...
The strangers in me are easily distracted. They are daydreamers, romantics. And therefore unreliable. They are often drunk and they don't always look out for each other. They pretend not to notice things. It always comes back to this business of drifting… The Drift is not so easily noticed, but the impact tends to be profound.
Open your eyes, boy. Your eyes. Open your eyes and no more turn aside and brood.