something in the way…

always. back in ’71, looking out the window of our ninth floor apartment, at the age of five, i remember humming along to carole king’s “it’s too late”…

melancholy starts early i guess.

lunch period was reserved for bowie’s low and heroes moss garden. i’d get lost in the color green and fat snowflakes falling asleep to the sound of weeping walls…

early college days, i’d walk from E 68th and lexington to 42nd and 8th to catch the last bus up north. i always wondered about the people, the lives behind the lit apartment windows. making my way up the endless escalators, i’d pass the addicts, the hookers, the panhandlers, and wondered if it all stayed the same.

i’d fall asleep on the bus, hit my head on the window, in perpetual emo.. robert smith crooning in my ear, morrissey pleading…

i met him on a bus, he cut english class, i was on my way home after dance class. he sat next to me. i stuffed a sandwich in my mouth. i slept. i hit my head on the window. the bus stopped at the depot in jersey to change drivers and buses. he sat down, i sat down behind him. an hour later he gets up at the bradlees stop and throws a tissue at me…

later on, he said i looked like a chipmunk – eating that sandwich

he purposefully missed his stop and ended up having a 20 min walk to his house.

the tissue was a note – stating he didn’t know why but that he had to get to know me, his phone number scribbled in blue…

“with your long blond hair and your eyes of blue, the only thing i ever got from you was sorrow…”

and the melancholy continues. but minus the great music. i have been playing catch up the last 5 years…

i miss someone i don’t know anymore. she was young, silly. wickedly talented. and innocent.

i miss someone i don’t know anymore . she wore torn bleached tees, had no bank account and holes in her shoes. living on change and carrot sticks.

i miss someone who road-tripped from ny to cali with the love of her life and came back with someone else…broken, tanned, and determined to go to the dentist to cure the pain in her mouth thinking it would fix her soul and her heart crushed to pulp.

i am here. i am now. i am.

and

there is

always

something

in

the

way…

By franny

ny'er, 80's girl, lover of alternative music, bowie, sylvia plath, jd salinger, and and and...

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