the grand canyon

Times like these I think about what could have been, (though probably would have never been). What I could have meant to you, and what I settled for. Even though I wouldn't take it all back, sometimes I still feel like I missed out.

The gulf between settling and not having, and vaster still the one between settling and the ideal--they swallowed us up.

**

disorientation

It's kind of weird...seeing you in the flesh. It dispels some myths and creates others. In the end, I'm left with a sweet taste in my mouth, slightly dry from the vodka and filled with something like possibility.

Whatever path this holds, I can't tell if I'm merely standing on the crossroads or already marching in.

**

fighting evolution

"I feel like...I don't know what you want from love."

I don't know either, am I to pine for Romeo-esque episodes, magnificent and unrestrained, yet subsiding before the dawn creeps in and you can whisper 'stay'...? Or is it better to long for something mellow and longer lasting, making up with sustainability for what it lacks in swells of movement? Is the glimmer of feeling alive to be sacrificed in order buy an ounce of reassurance?

Is it better to live rationally or violently...shorter fuses, brighter sparks?

As we go between the placid and the volcanic...I'd like to think that we get closer and closer to the balancing line, albeit we waver still.

"That's a nice picture." You say.

Somehow 'nice' doesn't seem to cut it here.

**

parallel living

It's so comforting to revisit the past, you just sort of fall weightlessly into the flow of things, yet preserving a dual, external perception, fully aware of its ephemeral superficiality, of its tangential, ghost of an existence, knowing full well it cannot penetrate your bubble of reality. Some things should remain in the quaint antique shop of your mind, placed on a perfectly undisturbed shelf.

**

16th century physics

What makes a person of the past so hard to confront? They are like a small, petty sun, obnoxiously announcing their presence, knowing full well you cannot look directly at them. And like the sun, you're pretty sure you're not the only target of their actions, even though, inevitably, you make it all about you anyway.

It always takes a Copernicus to realize otherwise.

**

the sound and smell of things

It's so full of wonderful noise and presence here, I love it. More than that, I welcome it after a time of nothingness. For some, nothingness can be very fruitful, for me, it mostly becomes rotten before it ripens, carrying the faint scent of frivolity.

I've often wondered if there's anything behind that enticing aroma, sometimes I think I've just touched it, maybe. But it's too hard to be within reach, or I'm just too lazy, I don't know. Anyway, being trapped in yourself is the cancer of happiness insurance, as in, they stamp their rejection of coverage before you could utter a plea. Productivity is just a safer stock to invest in.

**

direction

It is always better to look forward, I think. Less messy. Less undignified. Here's to something more.

**