n. the surge of energy upon catching a glance from someone you like—a thrill that starts in your stomach, arcs up through your lungs and flashes into a spontaneous smile—which scrambles your ungrounded circuits and tempts you to chase that feeling with a kite and a key.
n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.
Dear Anonymous,
You threaten me at the end of every night. I fall asleep dreaming of you, whoever you are. The black wall of could-be’s and almost-were’s is so expansive and crippling that I almost can’t take it. You are the never-was and the just-missed-its. I hate you and I love you. Every possibility that ever was; you are it and I’m sorry that I missed you and wasted time over-thinking or never gauged you as a reasonable option. You are the very death of me. The swan song to my inevitable empire.
Everything and nothing. Ignored and acknowledged.
Truly, I’m sorry I missed you. Please leave a message after the tone.
*BEEP*
n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—a flirtatious glance, a sympathetic chuckle, a nod of mutual respect, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence—moments that are fleeting and random and unexceptional but still contain powerful emotional nutrients that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone.
“Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap
“A moment, a love, a dream, aloud
A kiss, a cry, our rights, our wrongs
So stay there
Cause I’ll be coming over
And while our bloods still young
It’s so young it runs
We wont stop till it’s over
Won’t stop to surrender”
When was the last time I was happy? I don’t really know. There are things that make me temporary happy: The first drink of the night (usually Vodka heavy), pain killers with a bottle of wine, dying and coming back, picking a wedgey, buying a new gadget or scoring a good fuck and hoping he leaves…
Consider yourself. You are the definition of the choices you make. I’m a firm believer in the idea of parallel dimensions. Every choice you make causes a split in the universe that forces another concept and form of your world as you know it to manifest and begin its life as a new entity.
Somewhere, floating in the aether of creation is an idea of you. Not as you are, but as a validation of the path that you did not choose. Thousands, if not millions, of possibilities floating around in the vast expanse of time and space. Somewhere there is a you that is a movie star, a professional athlete, a child prodigy, a drug addict, a burnout, and everything in between.
The path set before you is full of possibilities; some of them you’ll embrace, others you’ll reject. What matters most is the time you spend in the here and now. You can’t worry yourself with the problems of tomorrow until you’ve dealt with the problems of today. The important thing is to not run away. When you run away, you choose not to make a choice. There’s always a choice. Whichever outcome you decide is up to you.
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