Shoplifters of the World

I've spend a lot of time trying to reconcile the world with all the feelings I have about my past and the memories of what I have done.

Like so many of my generation I spent most of my life hiding from the cold. The streets of the city were frozen, ice solid, the sidewalks ready to start cracking from the paralyzing cold, the people covered from head to toe in thick coats. I stood waiting on the street's corner breathing into my hands and rubbing them together, desperately trying to keep from freezing. My breath was warm, yet the unbelievable winter cold quickly turned it to steam and froze it soon after. The winter's first snow had just began to fall, covering the naked streets and melting on my hands. The snowfall soon turned so thick that whenever I'd breath too rapidly I would catch snowflakes in my nostrils and feel the tingling sensation of the frozen water instantly melt at contact. Visibility dropped to nearly zero and the cars on the streets were now moving sluggishly slow, their headlights glaring through the thickening snow. To make matters worse, the wind picked up speed, trying to chase anyone still standing on the streets home. However, I tried to ignore it, turned my back on the weather and thought of warmer times.

In an instant I felt warmer. I was now smiling, deep inside myself. I could still remember the summer's heat, and the way I felt after a day long adventure with my friends downtown. I recalled the tired faces of the people on the buses I used to return home on, and the way the sunset's light would make our faces red, how for one second we were one being, simply happy to be alive and feel tired. I remember her. The day I really saw her, the look of her hair and that magical smile she had. I remember the long walks home with her. Tired but happy, her head leaning against me. I remember our getaways and the warmth of her body as we sat together and looked at the evening fire. I remember the feeling of complete vulnerability when being around her, and waking up together on the beach, seeing the sunrise above the ocean. I remember the smell of her hair while she slept in my arms on a late night train and the taste of her lips on a cold winter day. At time, theses feelings come to me all at once, and I feel like my heart can't take it, like I can't breath under their weight. But as time passes those feelings fade and I am never able to hold on to them for long. Perhaps one day they'll be gone for good.

The thoughts of what was to come couple with the thoughts of what once was made me smile. But enough of that hogwash, time to focus on the present, I told myself. It was the middle of January, the first weekend of the winter break, and I was organizing a party for all my friends. I tossed around in my mind all the possibilities for today's evening and imagined all the scenarios that might transpire. We would grab something to eat, play pool and get drunk with cheap wine before the evening was over. Calling all the crusaders of the dance floor!

Let loose of the details, the party was a success, with the music's baseline so deep you could feel the vibrations in Jamaica. But what went up, had to come down, and down, and down. The party adolescence is over, reality's on its way, and everyone looks ill at the end of the night. All lost the power of speech, desperately avoiding eye contact. The soul mate with whom you've spent hours talking about the story of creation or the next Star Wars movie, is now a complete stranger, you can't even look him in the eye. We've stolen from the world more than we could handle, and flown too close to the sun. We've had the time of our lives, but now, we're no longer together as one, but separate, mental patients, that beg to be ejected out of this poisoned atmosphere into a warm bed and friendly therapist.

Where am I? What have I done? Was it worth it? And by the way, what the hell happened here?