Comfort song's as short stories
- Amelia Paladin
- Sep 1, 2021
- 2 min read
La Jolla
I sit down to a rock on a cliff beach and look into the sunset and start to think. What makes me move? It takes a lot I can tell you that much, so if someone can figure it out, tell me. I trace the figures of your smile with my mask as I see you, while I work on formula how to cure me and my loneliness. There I said it.
’I could go away.’ I think quietly. ’Pack my stuff… And be gone before anyone wakes.’ I know I have tried to love myself too, like others. I have tried hard. It just always slips through.
Maybe one day I will live in La Jolla. Drinking cocktails over the water and have my own personal sunset. To give each day its own diploma… It sounds relaxing as I sigh. I walk out from the cliff beach and to my home. I try to ignore the darkening sky, So I don’t figure it out…
Jubilee line
You are wasting my time, and I am wasting yours, but I still hate to see you leave… It’s a fate worse than death. I mumble out words as I get to my train. ’’Your city gave me asthma, And your water gave me cancer…’ I sigh as I look for my seat. The train is empty just like my thoughts. ’’That’s why I am leaving. Even the pavement hurt to walk on.’ I sigh as I look at the darkening town, seeing people shouting. ’Shout at the walls… ’Cause the walls don’t fucking love you.’ I think and sit down.
Then an ending of one of my favorite songs comes to mind. ’’ There's a reason that London puts barriers on the tube line, There's a reason that London puts barriers on the rails There's a reason they fail.’’ As I watch the people on the station…
Since I saw Vienna
You had that cute bomber jacket you've had since the sixth form, adorned with patches of places you've been, but it’s nothing on my Khaki coat I found from the roadside when I was sixteen. My boots are from airport shops and my backpack is from friends. I keep telling myself I am not a man of substance, so I pretend to be a wanderer. I keep leaving ascetic belongings in hostels and restaurant bins
The roads are my home, as the horizon is my target. I will keep moving, never losing my side of it. Treating my memories of you like a fire, letting it burn out. Don’t fight it, and just try to move on. I look back at my diary. It's been sixty already weeks since I saw Vienna. I'll pick up my hiking boots when I am ready to move on, and put down my roots when I'm dead
The distance is futile… Come on, there’s no rush. You’ll get that feeling deep inside your bones. But always remember… I will be gone when you must be alone.
Go listen the original songs!
Jubilee Line
La Jolla
Since I saw Vienna
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