Meaning

There was nothing to anticipate. And perhaps that was the most daunting notion; that his life wouldn’t lead to anything; that he would spend the rest of his years waiting for nothing. That’s what he found himself thinking about much of the time. But people couldn't see that just by looking at him, of course. Yet, there were some that knew his inner thoughts and could anticipate for him, for they knew of his greatness and were eager to show him the wonder that is the future.

Twenty-two years. Twenty-two years he had lived and still he knew not why he lived except for the sake of time. Or was he living simply because he was born? He spent his younger years searching and somehow his search extended into his adulthood.

He was bright—not scholarly, per say, but intellectual and capable of great thought. It could be seen in his eyes. But when he looked into his own eyes, he couldn't see the spectacular world his mind kept hidden. He couldn't see the final product of his scattered thoughts and random dreams. Were they to be conglomerated into a meaning for his life? He did not know.

The Enemy Is of the Essence

Time is a funny thing. It moves like water, sometimes. Sometimes like fire. Sometimes, even, like the earth. It can flow and cascade through your fingertips, making you feel it and feel alive. It can flash and crackle and spring into action, a wild sea of heat and movement that demolishes the past and even the present. And it can stay still, whether steadfast and unshakable or seemingly lifeless and frozen.

When I'm with you, time is a water that cleanses my body, my soul, and clears my vision like raindrops trickling down a window pane. When I'm with you, time is a fire that scares me with it's rage and unpredictability and yet, those things make me feel more alive than ever; they unleash a passion and a will to use this life for more than breathing. When I'm with you, time doesn't stand still enough, but there is a permanence to our togetherness that I cling to. And I hope, I pray—to anyone or anything if there is no God—that time is on my side here and that it doesn't sweep you up, out of my arms, and into my past.

Time may be the enemy but time is of the essence. I will never take for granted a single second, a single moment, a single instant spent with you.

Fluff

My soul is blanketed.

It's blanketed in love.

So,

I suppose,

It is not my soul that I speak of,

But my heart;

My heart.

I just want to write a song so beautiful that Time is touched by it and blesses me with lingering moments of love.

Oh, dear. I simply must stop with all of this fluff.

Silent Music

When I think of us, and I know this is weird, but, I hear music. When I picture us together, there is this soundtrack that goes along with that picture. The significance of this, I believe, is that there is a soul to the very existence of you and I together.

Before I go any further, if you are reading this, please understand that sometimes I fluff up my blog posts to correspond with the whole wordscapturingthemoments.blogspot.com theme. So, if you're like, "Woah, this girl is crazy," then fear not, for I am perfectly normal. I just like to use sappy words and colorful language. But in all honesty, you definitely are something special. Don't get freaked out by that. Please.

Blink 182 exudes an individuality that is parallel to our personalities and belief that we are who we are and can be anything. At least, that's the sense I get from you.

Van Morrison, although we haven't listened to him together, defines the ease of us being together. It's the music of the mornings with you. And for some reason, I see us making pancakes together and dancing around the kitchen to "More Than a Feeling" by Bon Iver. And not to be too cliche, but I also hear "Happy Together" by The Turtles. That's just a fun-loving song. I mean, c'mon.

There is a particular music for waking up next to you, with your arms wrapped around me. One song that comes to mind is "Closing Time" by Semisonic.

But before the morning comes—before we drift off into separate worlds—there is a different song that lulls me to sleep, urging me to dream of you. Sitting on your roof, staring up at the stars, I hear "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World. I'm sitting in front of you with your arms wrapped around me. You rock me back and forth to a rhythm neither of us need ears to hear. Your hands find mine and hold them tightly to tell me you won't let go. Our breathing slows and synchronizes to our imaginary music. The bridge comes. You whisper something in my ear and then the chorus erupts and your lips are against mine as a drop of water falls from above and lands softly on a cheek. And there we sit in the cold air of the night filled with silent music.

I'm Lucky

Sometimes people are lucky. That's not to say I believe in luck. Actually, I guess that does mean I believe in it. But I believe that luck is something that is granted to those that deserve it and need it. It's not handed out freely. It's not like being born into wealth or being naturally gifted with superior singing talent. Luck is a combination of Fate, Karma, and a person's soul. And you know what? While I still can't understand why, I'm lucky.

That moment. What was it? There was something about that moment that will forever linger in my mind, in my heart. I'm starting to believe it was magic. Yes, magic. That must've been what it was. And is.

There's something about you—and I know that sounds cliché, but it's true—that draws me to you. And something tells me that the feeling I'm feeling is reciprocated. There is this balance in my life that I had once lost and you have restored. But you've gone beyond restoring it. You have built to what it never was or could've been without our meeting.

Lord, I sound like such a sap; such a romantic. I suppose I am.

I love how we can coax a smile from each other. I love how we can be kids and not worry about growing up. And yet, I love how we see a real world around us. We see a real world around us but we are surrounded by fantasy. (That's hard to interpret. I just liked the sound of it.) I love how we hold each other and it feels more natural than breathing.

I'm lucky.

Too Close

I suppose this awful feeling I have going on right now is frustration. Just frustration. But it's a complicated, delicate, layered frustration that originates from something I treasure beyond gold: my mom. Well, that is not to say she is the cause for my frustration. The world just happens to work in such a way that me going away to college and her wanting me to stay and me wanting to have all the freedom life can offer and she trying to knock some reality into my thick skull isn't something easily dealt with.

Maybe it's a combination of problems that has me so overwhelmed. Maybe there are no problems and that, in itself, is a problem. Oh, gosh. I don't know. I'm stuck in neutral, but I want to drive. I want to leave my past in the dust. Yet, I want to sit in my car with the windows down and listen to the frogs and crickets that kept me awake in my bed night after night from my earliest years until now.

Ugh. Then again, I've always been sheltered and given boundaries. Sometimes I didn't need boundaries because I wasn't even given the space for them. And now? Now I can taste life outside my little Rapunzel tower. No. I can smell it. That's the problem. It's so close. Too close.

And So It Goes

I'll try my best.

I should've known better. I should've put two and two together and got forever. Okay, not forever. I'm just being melodramatic. But the truth is, I shouldn't have sabotaged my own happiness. Is it the human condition? No, I think it's just my crappy condition. It'll work out, though. Won't it? It always seems to. And if it doesn't, then what? Then, whatever. The Lord may have giveth you, but I hath pusheth away. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Who knew that by getting closer you can push someone so far away?

How much do I invest?

Well, I think I invested a little too much and the market crashed. Or, at least, is in a recession.