(no subject)
Hmmm.... today has been a yearny day. I'm not sure exactly what I mean by that, since I can't precisely describe the emotion, but I guess I can try.
Do you know how you feel when you're in the middle of a great story? Either seeing it or reading it? And how you feel like more than anything you just wish you could do something like THAT with your life? So it's like that, but minus the story. It's like the feeling you have when you stand atop a mountain looking at a grand vista, or at the open night sky, or any of those other cliché emotions. There's a feeling of fullness there that you can almost reach, that you could reach if you just stretched a little farther.... but you can't seem to get there. And that leaves a void inside that you desperately want to fill in any way you can.
Or maybe that's just me. But today's been like that... as if I'm being tugged but as soon as I move to follow the feeling vanishes. It's been a day for wandering down strange roads and staring gloomily out my window, wishing that the meaning of my life would just tumble into my lap so that I would know what I was supposed to do rather than just surviving. Because really, am I living or just surviving?
Do you know how you feel when you're in the middle of a great story? Either seeing it or reading it? And how you feel like more than anything you just wish you could do something like THAT with your life? So it's like that, but minus the story. It's like the feeling you have when you stand atop a mountain looking at a grand vista, or at the open night sky, or any of those other cliché emotions. There's a feeling of fullness there that you can almost reach, that you could reach if you just stretched a little farther.... but you can't seem to get there. And that leaves a void inside that you desperately want to fill in any way you can.
Or maybe that's just me. But today's been like that... as if I'm being tugged but as soon as I move to follow the feeling vanishes. It's been a day for wandering down strange roads and staring gloomily out my window, wishing that the meaning of my life would just tumble into my lap so that I would know what I was supposed to do rather than just surviving. Because really, am I living or just surviving?