an adopted name

Discovering so many sentimental things lately. i think its the weather. its cold and dark out and its hardly 5 o'clock. i've spent some time thinking about the temporal nature of everything, especially relationships. things move so quick. when i turned 24, four people i knew in my life passed away. one after the other, two at a time. when i remember them, i always remember them laughing because that was when they were most beautiful. any negative parts of them i have somehow stored in a place that eventually disintegrates, and i think thats probably good, because they're gone and there's no need to judge them.
its amazing that i'm here and that i'm in this very committed relationship. its been 2 years, which is crazy to me. sometimes i look around our apartment and get scared. i don't how normal that is, but i think it goes along with the temporarlity of things. dave always says 'change is the only thing constant in our lives' and thats something i haven't thought about enough.
i ran across a friends blog and became very quiet. i've been reading it for the past hour, and its been this odd combination of feelings, generally melancholic and nostalgic. he's constantly traveling to random towns and living and working at places like the waffle house or something just to try a different sort of life. sometimes i feel like i'm wasting time, and i had a definite feeling of loss as i read his stories. i would never do what he does, but i wish i had the balls too try something like it. i'm constantly preparing for some time in the future where things will become solidified. i don't mean solidified in the sense of a house and family (please, not so generic) (not to judge those who aspire for this, however), but perhaps more about success, which is very ethereal.

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i stepped outside this morning, into
the cold stark ocean of traffic from
the near by expressway
i found kids toys broken on the ground,
two small vintage plates
a microwave
and shoe
laying lonely in the cement, left
and forgotten.
these things bring memories
of sitting for hours, on my old porch
in shorts and tank top, put on me by my mother, who is soaking beans
in the kitchen.
i'm staring to the street, past the sidewalk that meets the lawn
boys ride by, call my name
men drive by, i avert my eyes
the women, in the neighborhood, are dragging furniture out to the street
things no longer needed,
by dwindling families
and i remember, feeling sad, for objects
whose gloomy, limp parts, broken and abused, sat waiting
for their end