The Bird 10.22.10

          Everything is ruined.  Fingers move heedlessly across the keyboard and heart-wrenching nostalgia pulls at me.  The beautiful caffeine-induced, right brain-led daydream as good as morphine, disappears.  It’s simply over.  Now it’s all about what happens next instead of that glorious moment where something is realized in such a way that it can never be put into words anyone could understand. “Where will the character go?” “Is it really original or has it been done before?” and other such inane questions are brought into the mind without invitation.  They are always an unwelcome reminder that the dream world does not exist.  Therein lies the crippling frustration, and from that frustration another phoenix rises above the ashes of the last dream even more glorious, but the vicious cycle repeats with an ever-constant abortion of anything…writeable.
            Discarded plot number 1,085,672 lands like an unnecessary receipt from Starbucks into the nearest receptacle.  Torn between the millions of memories brought back as a favorite song from college plays and shifting ideas of where my future is going, I stare lifelessly at a little bird standing in the middle of the abandoned airport gate perched completely out of place on the top of a plastic chair.  For a moment it doesn’t even appear out of place, but of course it is.  People walking by take pictures and stare as it frantically flies back and forth across the impersonal and empty gate.  Eventually it stops at the window, staring out like me, at a world it once inhabited.
            Again, I’m forced, as always, to live in this world of expectations I don’t understand.  With excruciating effort I can assimilate and with excruciating effort I do, but this insatiable desire to escape pulls at me with every responsibility I’m meant to fulfill.  I’m the bird inside the window that no one watches.  People pass by and point at the novelty from time to time, but after I’ve stopped ruffling my feathers and settle in, they forget about me tucked away in the corner.  Satisfied only for a moment with my perch, the edges of my brain start to flutter in confusion after too long in one spot.
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