it wasn't a sad cry, nor a happy one. it was more one of missing and of wanting. of a strange type of loneliness that only occurs when a certain someone leaves.
i wander aimlessly down streets, driving aimlessly, thinking aimless thoughts, and listening to the buttery tunes of jazz slide down my neck and through my body, as the tensions of the week lift, and my back hurts a little bit less.
i'm seeing that people think i'm too old to wander and explore, if only they came with me. if only they grabbed that little bit of passion and wonderment that i have, on my good days. if they could only begin to see the small sparkles of life that make it seem that much bigger and more increasingly wonderful.
i finally have a day off, and i'm going to explore.