Circus Life

Can I laugh?

It took me a while to take a good hard look at my life. It took me even longer to realize what a mess I had made of it. The things I did that brought heart ache and sorrow to those who loved me they way love is described in songs. It took me a while to see past the tall dark shadow that towered over me sweeping me off my feet and hugging me so tight I could barley breath from all the pressure. It took a while to fight through it, push away, get away, run as fast as I could until the shadow was so small it was barely noticeable. It took a while for me to see it as a big joke. I had run away from home and joined the circus.

My life was a circus. The type that makes you sad. The one that travels from town to town with its rides with chipped paint and missing bolts that only work sometimes. The type that has a stage of freaks putting on a show, but instead of being impressed you are just sad and no longer wish to watch but you stay out of curtesy. My life was the tilt-a-whirl that only tilted, and never whirled. My life was the fun house of mirrors that only pointed out your flaws and made you feel small, fat, and unattractive. My life was the petting zoo with sick goats, rabbits with milky eyes, and monkeys in diapers smoking cigarettes and blowing the smoke in toddlers faces. My life was that point in time when the cotton candy makes you feel sick and you want to throw up but you know that once you start you’re not going to stop. My life was a circus, a sad circus.

Can I laugh at myself and the thought that I had running through my head that made me feel like I could have been safe? Can I laugh at the thought that everything was going to be fine? Can I laugh at being naive and young and reckless and careless and just all the things you shouldn’t be?

I realized, just a little while ago that I didn’t have to live in that circus. It was a traveling circus, that packed the rides up in huge boxes and the carneys pulled their trailers with them as the found a new home for two weeks. I didn’t have to live that life. A travelers life, always searching for more. If I looked past the dull lights and sounds of children being forced to have fun with their parents I could see my real life. The life I needed, the life I wanted.

If I looked hard enough I could see a town. I could see brick walls built high and packed tight with everything I wanted. I could see the sun. I could see a home. I could see everything that I wanted. I could see everything I had before I decided to run off and join the circus. If I looked hard enough I could see everything I left behind. And if I ran fast enough I could get back to it.

So, can I laugh?

At the past.

At the present?

And at the future?

Can I laugh and run away from the circus?

Can I please come home?


<a href=””>Circus</a&gt;


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