don't need wings to fly
I wrote this last night. expect a revision or addition later tonight.
I've never been in a lifestyle that hasn't required repitition and organized process, until now. From gifted elementary schools and baseball teams to middle-school meltdowns over burnt toast and a fragile heart. High school had plenty of slippery floors, but like sex, I always managed to find my legs in a crossed position before I fell. The transition from an area supplemented existence and financial popularity to a small quiet town in a beautiful setting is more than necessary. High school has been the best turbulence I've ever ridden through. Not just its physical setting but its time in my life. Life for my family and friends has been hell-bent, constantly adjusting like a hanging picture frame. Family has been beautifully disappointing, and friends have been disappointingly beautiful. Thank for Lyndsi for staying beautiful - I can't think of enough adjectives that would do you justice. You have my life and I could ask for nothing more. Plenty of scars all over from this ride. I pay more attention to the thought processes changed by each one than I do how they got there. Another year in high school and I would have had to resuscitate my feet and soul from an overbearing tongue-in-cheek lifestyle of running in circles so embarrassingly-conspicuous that four high-schools could push a car.
Spoiled eggs of embarassment sit unsteady on a platter that once pinned swiss to tin foil.
I'm ready for my makeover, professor.
I prefer any picture my mind creates over any picture a screen can produce.
Only wish I could give this textbook an idea of how I feel about the gods.
Mountain-high canopies of empty tin-cans will replace televangelism very soon.
And I will continue studying the calendar more than most people do a watch.
I've fallen in love. Thinking incomplete thoughts and speaking in body-movement. Swooning for affection these past weeks which I'm sure will spoil me. My distance from her will soon increase tenfold. From sixty to six-hundred like a whirling turbine jet engine. And it will hurt as much as being thrown into one. Together, we have created a monster. And fed it steroids. I can only hope to find a collar big enough for its head to maybe harness it and use it in my favor. If love is a battlefield, fuck it, this monster's going to war. she truly is the one worth fighting for.