He walked the halls in his comfortable bubble of silence. A light summer breeze ruffled his hair and followed every his step as his way wound through the sun sheltered halls. With each step, his shoulder bag slowly swung with its own particular rhythm. The only sounds the permeated the air were the light clicking footfalls of his shoes and the slight ruffling of his shirt as it rubbed against itself.

It had been over a half dozen years since he had been back to these halls of learning. The halls reminded him of a period of time when he would learn the most about life and the world that existed outside of academia. The successes and failures that he experienced were part of the unspoken rules that governed the real world. Those kinds of realizations just didn’t occur to him at the time, but he remembered their lessons very well.

Impulsive decisions and inexperience were what guided him through those turbulent years. Trial and error were his trademarks during those times of struggle and tribulation. He might not have grown up in the ghetto, but adversity comes in many forms and he was glad to have survived. Some people weren’t so lucky. Many of those decisions were tempered with logic and intelligence, but he was young and mistakes were expected. With the passing of each event or incident, he learned a little bit more and corrected himself. Young were his years, but he never used that excuse for the things he had experienced–both tragic and joyful alike. Now with the passage of time, they had left their palpable mark upon his darkened soul.

He still had a youthful look, but there was much wisdom and maturity set deep into his eyes and stance. Over time, that youthfulness and inexperience transformed into something greater. It had turned him into an insightful and collected adult that crossed the school campus alone that day. Looking around with eyes that weren’t quite old, but nor were they young any longer, he noticed how much things had changed. Lots of changes happened in the years that had come and gone. He could barely recognize the scenery that lay before him.

Now there were new buildings, a new administrative staff and like always, a new student body that occupied the halls in which he once stood. As the years swiftly flew by, there were times that he could almost forget what had happened all those years ago but a part of him that never wanted to forget. He never wanted to forget some of those wonderful days, or the horrible days that followed.

Bending down near a patch of dead, dry grass, he placed a freshly cut purple orchid at the spot where that tragic incident happened so long ago. Standing up, he bowed his head for a long moment of silence, recalling those days with vivid clarity. Taking one last look at the flower laying at his feet, he turned around and walked away. The wind had picked up, whipping through his hair, telling him to look back but he didn’t. What had transpired was something that most people would have tried to forget. He never did.

He still felt responsible for the ill-fated events that lead up to that unfortunate day, although some had said that there was nothing he could do. Those words that tried to absolved him of guilt were a small measure of comfort compared to the hollow hole in his heart that he had been carrying ever since. His past was his past and he would never forget it, or those who had walked with him during those days. But to dwell on it would invite unwanted self-destruction. It was simply not his way.

He didn’t look back as he strode into the future, never forgetting the ones that came before him, or the lessons he learned from them as well. Getting into the car, he took one last look at those cream colored walls that were so much a part of his adolescence and drove away.

We zipped along on a current of heated actions and reactions. The moments came swiftly, turning and tumbling, making sure that we were alive, as intimacy lit our souls on fire. Reckless and unsure of which path to take, we simply rushed along whatever route we were on when the rope snapped. Frustration overtook calm, and panic planted its roots of self-destruction. Strength remained with patience, but was quickly waning.

Lunging for your outstretched hand, I missed, faintly grazing those delicate fingers, as you continued to drift away from me. You plummeted deeper and deeper into that thick vapor, with me trailing right behind, narrowly out of reach. The mists swirled around us, seeming to wash by with increasing speed. My eyes darted around, trying to find a foothold, a handhold, some sort of perch somewhere, anywhere, to slow us down.

I cried out your name, but heard no response. You turned and gazed at me, eyes rapt with attention, your mouth trying to form words that one always understood, but none came. Pursing your lips, you again tried to speak words that died before they were ever given birth. The look in your eyes said it all though–something was amiss. Deep down you knew something was wrong and I knew it too. There was no way to really express what you were thinking, except for the faint tinge of sadness edging your eyes.

Somewhere along this route, we had gone too far, had crossed the line, and there seemed to be no way of going back. In the silence that enveloped us, your muted tones told me that much had changed. Resignation wormed its way into your once serene face, head shaking as if in a soundless scream. Plunging any deeper into that hopeless gloom, the murkiest of murks, and all would be lost; you would be lost to me.

Diving with fearless recklessness, I grunted and stretched with every last sinew of my being, reaching out for your hand to somehow hang onto the last few tendrils that still bound us to each other. No matter what it took, and no matter how far we fell, I would continue to strive, and we would survive.

Goonies never say die.

Rain. tak tak tak… I used to listen to the raindrops falling from the sky, late at night, while lying in my bed alone. The individual drops would tap against my windows, etching out their short-lived existence in a beautiful brilliance only nature could muster. in between the silent drone of languid dreaming and wakefulness, I would catch a glimpse of their paths as they slid through trails of reason and fantasy.

So comfortable they were, knowing that their lives were meant for something greater. They were assuredly valued beyond measure, with fairly simple choices that lay before them–at least that’s what we’d like to think. But there is always that stubborn one. The one which continues its search for the meaning behind its existence, zigging and zagging across the pane, determined to create its own footprints in an already chaotic land.

Lying in my bed alone, frozen by the thought that with so many possibilities, it might never find what it was looking for, even if it knew where to start. Either that, or it would simply splash out–dying and melding back into the pool, never knowing what its true purpose was.

tak tak tak…I try not to listen anymore.