What will come will come.
Even if I shroud it all in silence.
What will come will come.
The sound of the words lingered in my head, replaying over and over again. I tried to think back into time, wondering if maybe these words could have helped me at some terrible point. I doubt it.
I walked almost a mile today, all around town. It started when some worker from the apartments next door threw out some old "quiche" that really did not do well over time. I've gotten used to bad smells considering I "live" right next to their dumpster in that forgotten, abandoned factory, but sometimes, it becomes unbearable. So I walked.
I passed the baseball guy and a little girl playing hopskotch, or something close to that. I passed the smell of food and cigarettes and I passed a forever 21, full of young idiots. It was then that I ran into that crazy old man, still listening to the same damn songs, still shouting the same shit. I made points to visit him at least once a week and we always have the same conversation: an exchange of names, although his is always different, and a wierd kind of lecture, where he shouts something into the air and I think about it for the rest of the day, whether I understand or not; whether I want to or not. I laughed at the one from today, just because of how unhelpful it was to any part of my life. I always find it ironic when his lectures seem to be one of my waysof living life. What will come will come. Doesn't it always? I walked back towards my "house", or rather, "space of living" with that quesiton repeating. It always does, right? Even if I shroud it all in silence. Don't we all? Is that just me? Who knows.
