Tomorrow

Sometimes, I can’t hear myself. I talk, and I talk, and I talk, but I don’t listen. I tell myself an awful lot of good advice that I let fall to the wayside. I can deal with it tomorrow. Except, as we all know, tomorrow never comes. And then I’m left sitting here wondering why I never listened.

This is nothing new. I have always been this way. Always already not listening. Not hearing.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

I do read. I read a lot. I take in all the various emotions, the ways in which character say, do, feel; I read their own internal communications and, sometimes, apply them to my own void. My personal interface: the one who does, and the one listens. These two bodies do not always coexist. Oftentimes, they don’t.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

What I mean to say, what I really mean to say, is that it’s almost Christmas. It’s almost Christmas, and I miss them. Those I’ve lost. The ones who have passed this year, and the ones who have passed in years’ past. And it’s difficult to really listen to my favourite Christmas carols, it’s difficult to hear them, because I haven’t listened to my own sorrow.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s