be careful of falling parachutes.

I sit outside a venue with "the group"- the one-stop, badass, don't ask us our jobs but we'll tell you every band we've ever been in...Long Island scene kids. They are mature enough to call each other immature, but not mature enough to trust their own friends. Nearly everyone I could ask company for is present, yet tonight I am unamused by most of them. Where does the anti-complacency end, or even falter? I sit here in a bitterly cold wind, comfortable in my surroundings and feeling lucky to know them all, but suddenly I feel that perhaps I've been just a little too much part of it all. It was brought to my attention that in the past I have given off the initial impression of a backstabber, a gossip artist. The latter I'm sure I am, but as I sit amongst people who jump ship like they've been sworn into the U.S. Coast Guard...I realize I hardly want to be considered the first.

A few long moments later I am out of the wind and leaning against the bar with Travis McGee, Tom Angenbroich, Rob Fox, and Pat Brown. The confusing simplicity of this line up strikes me again to feel lucky and I decide I'm ready to clear the air: I may know all of your secrets, but I would never try to hurt you with them. I couldn't. To everyone I have hurt- I'm sorry. It's not that I want to make trouble, call you out or give you a bad review. It's that I swore I'd tell the truth how ever I experienced it, and without the truth..this blog..well it's nothing but a bunch of glorified boys and a girl stuck in their world. The fact that your stories are real is what makes these words worth the time.

Last night I took a few long moments with 6 lighted globes and someone who thinks that maybe it's just time for me to forget. A while later I was carried home in disillusion; not knowing what I wanted to say or think, but being okay with doing neither just yet.

Then I had a dream.
I had a fever, then I had a dream- that I couldn't get home. And that you said you wouldn't hold my hands on Mondays. When I woke up I thought you were there. But it was only last night's 6 colors in my eyes. And as my fever broke so did the dawn, and I remembered that it was Thursday. So I reached- and hoped that the wind had not taken you away.

Something has changed as of this morning. Something is over and I am not sad. At times I write with a pen as sharp as your stabbing knifes. Other times I try to dull your blades with a confusing paragraph or made-up word. At all times, I find, the truth is the hardest of sentences to post. I can't compete with anyone. I won't. And if that means losing pieces of some of you, then well- I am constantly moving on. Moving past. And it is time to forget. We are all quite difficult to love, this "group," and I probably the hardest of us all. Yet our long moments have yet to written, and our anxieties...nothing more than a couple crunchy leafs blown in by a bitter wind.

Be careful of falling parachutes, it's only a matter of time before someone changes your life.

...Terica.