Dream upon mine.

I sat there in the doorway. It was winter but the breeze felt good. Her cigarette smoke rudely blew in my face, but I didn't mind. This feeling brought me back to my grandfathers house on the lake. I used to visit him in the summer. We'd sit around the table and play cards. The screen door let the wind sift into the kitchen and pass through. My grandpa would be on his 10th cigarette. Inside i'd cry because children hate to see their grandfather's getting closer to death. It's been about 5 years since my grandfather died. I haven't been to his house on the lake ever since. But I will always keep the memories, the smells, everything with me forever. Oh, what i'd do to relive those days. And now, living in my own days. And everything around me seems so worthless. Getting closer to death isn't as big as a deal. "Everyone dies someday" They say. And I think in my mind- someday might just be too soon. But what's the point of living a longer life less-lived? You picture your dream- and then you remember you have to work hard to get there. And then realize- Working hard doesn't always do you good... because there's people like me who quit upon rejection. The girl with the cigarette laughs- "Hah! Rejection? You're only 18! You have many more years to live, where you'll realize there's more to life than this. You just got to wait for people to catch up to your maturity." "Wait?" i think. "Who wants to wait! Why not live now?" My life is on minimum repeat, and something must be done. How long can a person sit there and watch life pass by because its just "Not their time". But No one wants to listen. Because I was the chosen one to be the listener. No I can not communicate well on paper but I can speak and alter peoples minds with my words of wisdom, when they are vulnerable. So I sit there drinking my coffee, listening to someone's fascinating life, as I dream upon mine.