pulsar

From what I gather, everything is about a passion, or love. And maybe people would argue with me about this, but if you had no passion or love for something, there would be no production. We learn so we can make something of ourselves. We work, because we have bills to pay, because we have to eat. Normally, one would answer "we have to..." The truth is, we don't. But we do because we enjoy living in a safe warm home. We enjoy eating healthily. We have a passion for living.

Everything I do or create is on the basis of love. If I wrote a story about every time I've been in love, I'd have a library full. And that's not just in love with people. That's in love with sounds, places, dreams, moments.

All love is distilled. A different potion for every different person, place or thing. Each placed with correct amounts of different elements. And then with a smile or kiss we place it into their wombs to manifest and ferment with time. Each potion is unique. Sometimes, the love will become a beautiful red wine. Perfect to the taste. Sometimes, it will run sour... But even bottom shelf wine can sometimes surpass the taste of a top shelf bottle...

So many variations to love. All placed with an oppourtunity to grow. Some people belive that once you're in love, that's it. There's nothing more. But, that's not true. If it was true love, your love would continue to grow each day. Someday, I'll make that potion. And I'll place it in the right person. The wine that will never be tasted, because it will continue to age. But I'll polish the bottle every day...

I can look at photographs and fall in love with them. Fall in love with the people in them. Curling my fingers around the paper like ivy, scared to make any prints. I can look that person in the eyes and say what I need to say and they won't blink. They stare, they listen. Or so that's how it feels. Most people look at photographs and see just 'a picture'. I see a moment in time trapped forever. An image more vivid than what a memory can hold. Moreso hard-copies-of-memories. Placed in albums and boxes... something to hold onto. Something to ensure we don't forget...

And after the rain, the sun glissened off the road. And it peeked over green hill tops. The tunes carried our hearts. Inhale. Exhale. Watching the smoke curl and slip away with the wind through the window...

These are comforting moments. When you can just drive and be content with the world. Pretty girls with their coiling around me, enclosing me with a wrath of warm. Pretty boys singing tunes in my ears, eyes falling short of shineing on me, but never falling short of making me smile.

I just want to be able to push emotions aside and enjoy my world for what it is right now. To take everything for what it is and just... breathe, relax and enjoy! Smile, dance, feel excitement, laugh, feel warm, feel real and just... go with it! To be free to sing, speak and write without having to confine my words to something of metaphors because I fear what others would think... When was I ever afraid of what people would think? To care, but to not care.

But to not care is not me. ...and from the ashes we are lifted. From the fall, we have risen.
We knew these few days would pass and despite the sorrow that hangs and cries from the sky outside your windows, we still have things to smile about. We still have warmth that we can hold onto without having to claw at it screaming at it to not go away.

I'm ready for new adventures...