Fight the Sky

Silence gradually spread its great, fragile butterfly wings across the room.

It always starts like this, but this time I recognize it and am able to change the outcome.

Today is my last day as a teenager.

My hometown isn’t an inspiring place.

I ordered some pants online and used a discount code to get two for the price of one. Got the pants in the mail, wore the pants, and loved the pants. Called Levi’s up and said I didn’t get anything. They were excessively apologetic, refunded me the full amount for both pairs of pants, and sent me two more, which I just received in the mail. Due to the discount code on my initial order, I ended up MAKING money, and getting four pairs of pants. Though small in scale, I just beat the fucking system.

Epiphany.

I was deleting my emails and found something new.

Fri, August 13, 2010 7:01:10 AM

Subject: I Know You Delete Most of Your Emails Before You Read Them, Please Don’t Let This Be One of Them

Body: The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on Saturday, November 14, 2009, and sent via FutureMe.org
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Dear FutureMe, 
As you write this, you can’t help but feel like a fucking wreck. Like you don’t belong. Like the ground isn’t yours to walk upon. You’re burning through everything your life has given you, and you’re making no effort to acquire something new, or cultivate new prospects. You’re in a rut. You feel as if you’re stuck in some bullshit interlude. You waste your life. You believe in doing what you love, yet you deprive yourself of that which you do. You just want to talk to somebody. You hope it’ll be the most recent addition to your life, but she may not even be there by the time you read this. Which is rather sad. You’ve already turned her into a pillar. A crutch. You’ve built your life around potentially fleeting elements. Perhaps that is where you excel, as well as one of your many flaws. Perhaps that is what makes you different.
Perhaps I’ve lost track of what I wanted to tell you.
Just know it keeps going. It always has, and it always will. You’ll get by. You always have. Barely. But you’re still progressing. Maybe one day you’ll wake up and fly by everybody who’s further down the line. Maybe you won’t. Maybe you already have. Maybe everybody who’s further down the line isn’t going to do anything different but reach the end before  you. Who knows? I don’t.
Impersonally Signed,
Cody Roche

How refreshing.