can't sleep
I just don't want it to ever end. I think of life as being this long moment made up of these individual segments. I walk down the street. I see a rose blossom in the sun. I smell the scent. I love this rose, this scent, the sun, the street. I ride in a taxi at night. The heat of the day is suddenly blanketed in a dense fog from the sea. I smell the ocean, the creatures dwelling within it, the coolness. I love this fog, the ocean, and all the creatures. I walk past a doorway. A dog wanders out of the doorway and on to the street. A man picks up the dog in his arms. The dog's ears and paws hang over the man's wrists, helpless, floppy, velvety. I love this dog, this man, this doorway.
I live in each passing moment. I love fleetingly because I love everything, so deeply, I can't let go. These moments, the moments that make up my life. No one will ever get to see them. They are mine, contained within me, and without me, lost forever. No one will know how I taste strawberries, how they prickle and crackle on my tongue like sour glass. No one will ever know what I think is the best color blue in the sky. No one will know which freckle is my favorite freckle on my body or why it is because I'll never be able to explain it in just the right way. No one will know how much I admire a certain texture of lips, the correct pressure that should be applied to a hug, the amount of cheese a grilled cheese should have. No one will know the clock game I made up as an insomniac kid or how many hours I played it while awake when everyone else was asleep. The way the sheets feel against my legs after a long day at the beach. All gone, gone forever.
How will I let go of this life, this thing I love so much? How will I ever find the strength to let it go?
I live in each passing moment. I love fleetingly because I love everything, so deeply, I can't let go. These moments, the moments that make up my life. No one will ever get to see them. They are mine, contained within me, and without me, lost forever. No one will know how I taste strawberries, how they prickle and crackle on my tongue like sour glass. No one will ever know what I think is the best color blue in the sky. No one will know which freckle is my favorite freckle on my body or why it is because I'll never be able to explain it in just the right way. No one will know how much I admire a certain texture of lips, the correct pressure that should be applied to a hug, the amount of cheese a grilled cheese should have. No one will know the clock game I made up as an insomniac kid or how many hours I played it while awake when everyone else was asleep. The way the sheets feel against my legs after a long day at the beach. All gone, gone forever.
How will I let go of this life, this thing I love so much? How will I ever find the strength to let it go?