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Time Stands Still
Author: Luke Mudge

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In everyone's minds, there is a place where time itself, stands still..
Usually it’s a simple memory, of a loved one, a family member. Maybe of a time in your childhood where you felt like a superhero, and nothing was impossible.

Or, sometimes they are so random you don’t even know why you are remembering them to begin with.

Physical pain, like how my leg was caught in-between two separate buildings, a pavilion and the concession stand at my old neighborhoods park. Followed by, thankfulness, how an old man heard me screaming as a child and helped me out of a situation he knew I shouldn’t have been in, as a 7 year old following a friend on top of a building, quick lesson learned.
Then remembering this friend, how crazy I thought he was, not afraid of anything, jumping from things that if he had fallen, there probably was no coming back from.. We were so young.. or maybe we felt as if it was death defying…

Simple memories.. standing still..

My first home-run, little league, the 2nd pitch I saw, just cleared the right field fence, I don’t remember the team we played, I do remember the right fielder reaching his hand under the fence and throwing it in as if it were not a home-run. But I was a fast little guy, and still cleared the bases and scored anyways…. Or maybe.. the kid threw the ball in, and it was misplayed, then over thrown, which is why I was safe at home when all was said and done.. None the less. Still a HR in the score book.

My first crush, I think I punched her in the arm in elementary school, “why do we as kids go stupid like that", I remember being so upset that I wasn’t next to her after our 8th grade trip, like there was some reason to be upset holding onto something when..in reality we barely knew one another, and I really cant use the word girlfriend, when the only time I saw her outside of school was rollerskating at the age of 10. But I remember skating, and the chicken dance..

High School was a blur, mashed images of a person I truly wasn’t. Ridiculed, and bullied and pushed to every limit physically and emotionally by people that I pretended were my friends. The only saving grace I had was that at one time I was a hell of an athlete. And when I played any sport, Most of the time, I was able to just be myself, and have fun.

Though it wasn't until I was 18 where it didn't matter to me anymore whether I had friends or not, and that's when I started to find myself surrounded by more and more people that truly did like me. Though those true friends I put on the back burner, because It was too real, too honest, too much for me, too quick..

So I ''let them go'' or so i thought...

Back then I would be told that I couldn't do something, and it pushed me to prove them wrong.
I was told i couldn't be as fast as someone, so I became faster, I was told I couldn't be in a position because of my age and experience, so I became that person, I was told I couldn't have what I wanted, so I became a selfish asshole in all the ways I thought, would bring me anything I wanted.

For the most part, it worked,
.. but because it's not so "simple", there is always a flip side.. the reality, that comes back to bite you, wake you up from your little dream, and show you what the world really looks like..

In my early 20s, with a job that I wasn't mature enough to handle, at that time in my life, made things seem easier than they are..

The timing.. I was a college aged kid surrounded by college age kids.. with money in my pocket and a lifestyle set for someone i truly was not..
again.. I wasn't mature..

From 2001 - 2004 I was 19 - 23 years of age, one hell of a ride, for those that know me, im sure if you are reading this sentence, you are 'shaking your head' with a grin at this. If you were along for any point of that 4 year ride.

my old bedroom, our small entourage,
my brother, dave, me,
my brother, kahl, desko, me
my brother, kahl, desko, me, mike
my brother, kahl, desko, mike, me, a guy named steve
West Corners, and that small house...

shit got real at one point.. i had 2 groups of friends all together like some posse all with the same brand of cell phone, and other friends combined, before social networking.. we were like one connected network of friends, where at the split second if someone were needed, one of them had your back within seconds..

It all played out like a drama on TV. and somehow, with the crazy nights, in-between a job where you were just killing time before your life started and then was put on hold for 8 hours, and a few years, I spun out of control, smoked the wrong thing "figuratively" met a girl that I shouldn't have introduced myself too, smoked the wrong thing "literally", married her and divorced her, all in the span of 2 years.

Even what you are reading, is a collaborated mess of memories, stuck in time, If I can see these images of my old friends, I can only imagine what images are glued in their minds of me.

Where or why people came and went.. I cant tell ya the reasoning, After that time-frame was over with.. I ended up befriending people that In high-school never talked to me, but for whatever reason wanted to be near me.. I would like to say every night was one big party, because that's what it seemed like, at that shitty cold house on fuller road..

But in reality it was just a 24 year old kid,
heavily consumed by alcohol and time,
and needing to kill every inch of it..

On a road to nowhere, trying to keep my head above water while walking along touching the bottom of the ocean emotionally...

It's funny because I have all these random thoughts, of my past, I could elaborate a lot more with grave detail, but there is no need, it's just several more images in my memory, of time "standing still"..

I was a 24 years old kid,


And then I met her...

------- Author's Notes -------

Something a little different,
with actual memories, hope ya like it,
i hope it speaks for itself at the end..

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Comments on this poem/writing:

shiloh... (45.47.242.176) -- Wednesday, December 16 2015, 01:17 am

there are reasons, yes....

there are always reasons to hold onto a memory or a hurt or a thought, even those that are not pleasant today... we learn from such things, we live them, then we take them with us as stepstones to walk across all the angry paths we must travel in order to get to the goal, whatever that might be.... soft, ragged, perfumed, ugly, smiling and frightening and welcome and fearful... whatever it may be... there are reasons, good reasons, to hold onto certain things that we remember, that we succeeded or failed at.... they are our past. We are the result.
 
Name:                                           Remember Me

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