Infinite Mornings
Like if I happen to mess up hard the previous day, I’ll still have all the chances in the world to make things right when I wake up.
Like if I happen to mess up hard the previous day, I’ll still have all the chances in the world to make things right when I wake up.
Sometimes life is an absolute car crash. It’s a sunny day and you’re out for a drive, the light turns red but some idiot decides to floor it, and a perfect Friday turns into a dazed trip to the emergency room.
It doesn’t change the goodness in me. I am not depraved nor sinful because I like girls; it’s just a simple fact about who I am. If we were living in an ideal world, your answer to this would be “So what? Let’s eat, the potatoes are getting cold.”
I look past these people towards the flickering blue windows of homes and at the flashing lights of cars driving past. I think to myself, “There’s so many of us here. How many are truly happy? How many are lonely?”
“Feel it all.”
There are easy days and there are hard days. There are days when you’ll feel all the sides of your life are pressing in on you, and you’ll see no other way out. You’ll feel alone.
We might as well learn to stop fighting ourselves, and if we can, to love us too.
And you, you who will fascinate me until the very essence of you permeate the molecules that make up my body, until all my atoms rearrange to revolve around you; I want you.
Maybe to love is to believe in the unbelievable. To see the impossible abstractions that surround us, to have faith in the things we cannot see, to put our full weight on something we cannot ever touch.
Shouldn’t love end like a bomb? Shouldn’t there be debris and violence and fire and anguish? Shouldn’t I be drowning in darkness and grief?