I miss you

Its twenty to three in the morning and I miss you. I wanted to write that out as a letter to you. Pen and paper would have been preferred but the laptop will do its by my side as I listen to Lost In The Night by Palace the album that fills me with nostalgia whenever I hear it. It fills me of nostalgia for anymoments that have come before and any that are yet to still arrive. I can't describe it or maybe I have perfectly with that sentance. I know that I wont be able to capture them the way I should. Making the most of everymoment of them the way that I should in youth. I know that I'll regret these moments if I do not act accordingly inside them so I try to make the most of every second saying yes to almost evey offer of substance or plan. Oh the joys of youth I can hear the elders say to my brain. I can imagine myself saying it soon, to a friend or a nephew or grandchild. I can see them pulling a face when I might have smiled all of those years ago.

"Not this again grandad", I can hear them thinking, I can see it all already.

Maybe its that time of the day or night, that in between stage when your imagination is at its peak. Everyhting is an inspiration.

Though I've had this image in my mind for a while now. I've been trying to make the best decisions that I can at the moment, making wiser more mature decisions, ones that a future slef might be proud of maybe to even think like that is a waste of time in itself. Oh the confusion of youth I might write at a later date.

If I can make myself laugh then at least someones had a chuckle with me at my expense. I dont get it what am I to do.

Anyway the music plays from my phone, I like its subtleness, its easy. It reminds me of Leeds, London and Manchester all at once I can picture old times or completely new ones can be formed all at once allowing for the smooth transitions between them all simultaneously. Its easy really I feel that everyone should have an album like that. Its not just the music though, its the album cover as well. The tones of it. It can be seen in anybodies room. On anybodies floor as the turntable revolves or on their wall in a glass plaque. Its just one of those records that everyone should have at least I believe so anyway. Here I am sat imagining my mate to have one in there collection already but I think that the music may be too soft for them. Who cares anyway this is my middle of the night almost day dream. It reminds me of cigarettes by a window sill and paintings at my mums whilst I try to capture those moments, smoking next to her kitchen fan as I look into South London over the West London skyline. Sometimes standing below the balcony light to really capture that moment of nostalgia, late night phone calls to newly found loved ones. Old coat hoods pulled over the short hair and finding a comfort that the ones that I own now just cant find and that the old ones can no longer recapture. The way the music tears me apart shouldnt be normal to be honest. Maybe I let my imagination run away with it a little, again I say let me dream.

Trains pass by in the dead of night, straight through the empty station, the estate is lit up by warm streetlamps, taller that your average, a police van might do a round of the estate. You can easily look over the rows of houses of the town from this height. You can feel yourself counting down the hours until you feel home again or at least out of this shithole you think to yourself. You're stuck in between worlds at this hour. Nothing is comforatable though all of it is all at once, even the smells. The feeling of your body inhaling smoke. How comfortably uncomfortable, I often think to myself. Self love isnt that all this is, a hug that you dont have to reach around yourself for. Something external a conversation shall we say. It's that perfection of a waiting room.

"This too shall pass", my mother says to me and now I tell myself more often than not. This too shall pass I tell myself as I sit on that 6 hour long coach journey from London to Leeds as I go home to the student house and my friends, my fmaily away from family, the extended uncles that my children will also soon grow up around.