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[24 Jun 2010|03:21am] |
I told my parents I had everything figured out at the age of 6. I told them again I knew what life was about at 18. I every now and then miss the occasion when you get to lull yourself into an almost idealistic sense of reality. And then there's those moments that yank you right back out of them again and into the unknown reality of adulthood. It's strange to look back at the face in the mirror and think about the kid that was looking at me at like 15. Even better was the fact we were away from home and you build up this family like feel, just you and the other lost boys. But in every group you have that glue that holds you together. Ours happened to be the one that dragged us all into the really ugly world of adulthood and reality. I told my mom last night that life was confusing as when I was 12. Other kids were still stubby, their voices high pitches and faces round. I shot up in what felt like overnight and my legs hurt and my arms hurt and I always had jeans worn at the knees and scabs peeking out underneath because I'd apparently forgotten over night as well, how to walk. I started tripping over my own feet, songs never sounded the same because my voice was changing. It was nice to get the attention of the girls who liked that I looked a little bit older than other dudes. I'm 24 and still tripping over my own feet. There are still scabs on my knees, but this time there's callouses on my fingers and ink under my skin where I'd hide my skate board bruises and surfing accidents. This time instead of being shy and hiding from girls, I get to use the excuse that I'm "married" to my work. Which I am, sort of. I've got another family outside of the blood one. It's hard to maintain something when you're trying to get to 100 cities and starting out in a tiny van in the beginning of March. Honest to god? I'm a little scared how quiet everything is going to be when this stops, and we all go our way.
I told my mom there's a part of me that still feels like that awkward kid, and she laughed and said at 24 you really are still a kid, that if I still feel this way by 40, we'll have a talk. Part of me feels like that awkward kid and then there's nights when I can't sleep and just sit there, watching these guys that I call my brothers sleep, as creepy as that sounds. I feel old. Seen relationships start and end, and friends promising to love others that have danced off with their hearts for eternity and getting a little jealous. One day, one day that'll happen, I'll get it. Look at these guys and remember the same faces at the grave site and go, god. I don't know that Spencer would look as ragged as us, or he'd probably look like it more, because so few can balance so much and most of the world on their shoulders and still smile. It's what happens after the legacy shows. It takes a couple of days to adjust to this, to life picking back up again after having a chance to stop and go revisit the lost boy days when we'd freak the teachers out and use Jackson's charm to get our way. Sometimes I hate the way things turned out. If we could rewind and get him to the doctor's ages before this had been a problem and said, look, look something's not right. Would I be here? Or would I actually be working at McDonald's trying to pay for my dream of playing music? I can't see the guys doing anything else, and I can't tell if it's envy or admiration. Then I fast forward to seeing Jay married, Jerad with all his little brats with an album of children's songs, getting to take in the impact that we've made, that we all know deep down that we have made, all in his memory. Do I know what I'm doing? Not a clue. Is this what I'm supposed to be doing? I really fucking hope so, cause I can't see myself being anywhere else. But life still makes no sense to me.
soundtrack
1. all at once, the fray
2. beautiful more so, spencer bell
3. alright for now, tom petty
4. change, blind melon
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