(no subject)
Have you ever hugged someone that felt so right and so perfect that it made everything in the world seem like it was wonderful?
I mean really felt that.
Not just told someone that you did to make them feel better or anything of that sort.
But really hugged someone and time seemed infinite and irrelevant and every single thing in the entire world felt as though it was not just okay, but perfect and wonderful.
Like how they portray christmas in story books.
Even though its winter and there is that biting cold that hangs in the air outside in the rest of the world, inside it is bright with candle flicker and frost stems from the edges of window panes leaving nearly a perfect circle to look through from within the fire warmed house that smells like cinnamon or some sort of other assortment of spices and there is that coffee mug filled to just below the brim with hot chocolate and a little whisp of white steam riding into the air above it, almost as if it were reaching out to the wraith hanging on the wall next to a christmas tree that is all life up and decorated with ornaments and lights and tinsel, the works. And there is never a TV or computer or anything like that around. Maybe an old fashioned radio sitting atop some little cabinet of sorts, trimmed up with its lightwood frame. Of course the fireplace is always bricks that extend out just a touch to provide that small step area to sit on, wrapped up in your scarf. Theres never a dead or dying tree outside the window, or any wilted plants inside. Theres just that perfect glow around the perfect tree from the perfect candlesticks to light up that perfect little room for you to sip your perfect little mug of hot chocolate and look out that perfect little window frame with the perfect little designs of frost at the perfect little flakes of snow falling down to the perfect little banks of snow.
That kind of perfect.
It feels kind of like that.
I mean really felt that.
Not just told someone that you did to make them feel better or anything of that sort.
But really hugged someone and time seemed infinite and irrelevant and every single thing in the entire world felt as though it was not just okay, but perfect and wonderful.
Like how they portray christmas in story books.
Even though its winter and there is that biting cold that hangs in the air outside in the rest of the world, inside it is bright with candle flicker and frost stems from the edges of window panes leaving nearly a perfect circle to look through from within the fire warmed house that smells like cinnamon or some sort of other assortment of spices and there is that coffee mug filled to just below the brim with hot chocolate and a little whisp of white steam riding into the air above it, almost as if it were reaching out to the wraith hanging on the wall next to a christmas tree that is all life up and decorated with ornaments and lights and tinsel, the works. And there is never a TV or computer or anything like that around. Maybe an old fashioned radio sitting atop some little cabinet of sorts, trimmed up with its lightwood frame. Of course the fireplace is always bricks that extend out just a touch to provide that small step area to sit on, wrapped up in your scarf. Theres never a dead or dying tree outside the window, or any wilted plants inside. Theres just that perfect glow around the perfect tree from the perfect candlesticks to light up that perfect little room for you to sip your perfect little mug of hot chocolate and look out that perfect little window frame with the perfect little designs of frost at the perfect little flakes of snow falling down to the perfect little banks of snow.
That kind of perfect.
It feels kind of like that.