Today

Its a strange feeling, knowing that all the time you've spent was for not. Nothing you can say or do will change it. It doesn't matter how many times you try to fix it. It doesn't matter that you will it to be better. It simply won't change.

I guess you can equate it to smashing your face off of a piece of granite. No matter how many teeth you break, no matter how many times you crack your jaw, no matter how many times you split your skull open, the granite won't budge. You're earthly resolution simply cannot move the stone that lay before you. So you sit down (back to the white gold) and cry. The tears feel strange sliding down your face; jagged and sullen. You bring your hand up to the cuts, bumps and protrusions and feel the hot passion seep from you. The metallic smell clogs your nostrils; you're upset now. 

You stand up from your temporary mourning and attack the stone again, bashing your hands no fists in a fury of disillusioned disappointment. Hammering away. Smacking the stone, but the pain does not wound you. In fact, it does not phase you; you receive pain nor pleasure from the act. Alas, it takes away the feelings and thoughts of a time that has passed you by. Yet you savor the moments and memories as if they were home and you were away at sea for years. You savor them as if they were the lighthouse guiding you back home from a raging storm. You have seen the light it casts and used it as a compass. But that lighthouse has lost it's fire. Its gone, and you left stranded on the high sea; naked and helpless, however, you still have that big-ass-piece-of-granite-that-you-constantly-smash-your-face-off-of-because-it-makes-you-think-of-anything-but-the-lighthouse-you-so-desperately-wish-was-illuminated. 

So here you are. One hurt and helpless sum'bitch with a big 'ole chunk of rock. You sail around the sea for a while; it's a sucky journey to say the least. Everyday you smash your face on the rock until one day a thought occurs,

"This rock is actually worth something to someone" 

or what one would actually be thinking after months of constant concussions

"ROCK=$$$"

So you set sail for the nearest port and sell that damn rock. You count the cash it has brought you and go out to eat at the most expensive restaurant in the world and then proceed to the most expensive bathroom in the world only to deposit the most expensive human byproduct ever conceived! Upon sitting on the throne of great ideas, you realize that the lighthouse doesn't really matter to you anymore. Sure, you still miss it, but you no longer need it.You've got something new now. Something different. Nothing as cool as a freaking lighthouse, but an emotion more extreme and important; you are content with yourself. You're going to be a-okay. 

You climb back to the ship's helm, blow the horn, and set sail for something new.  Sure, it is a little bit difficult to feel a little bit disappointed and passed over, but you look right through it. Your eyes are on the obvious; the future (and apparently nothing).