(no subject)
"Time is a lot of the things people say that God is. There's the always preexisting, and having no end. There's the notion of being all powerful -- because nothing can stand against Time, can it? Not mountains, not armies.
And Time is, of course, all-healing. Give anything enough Time, and everything is taken care of: all pain encompassed, all hardship erased, all loss subsumed.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember, man, that thou art dust; and unto dust thou shalt return.
And if Time is anything akin to God, I suppose that Memory must be the Devil."
-Diana Gabaldon
I've come to the conclusion that I have a plethora of amazing acquaintances, and not a single dear close friend. It's sad, but more than anything, it's lonely.
The lighting storm the other night was exhilarating. I walked home in it, watching Nature's display of anger and fireworks, shaking my head at the pathetic colorful replicas below it, the spray of patriotism, screaming for the same attention. I waited for the rain that I knew would eventually follow, begged for it silently. Anger like that always has tears of exhaustion and sorrow in the wings just waiting, they're there to refresh and calm... but they never came. I walked home dry as a whistle.
I need to get on with my life, find that next step and take it. I just wish I knew where it was. I feel like I've been at this cross-road before, my map unrolled, searching desperately for any sign of life, or a way on to 'greener pastures.' I guess I've never been the type to ask for directions, but then again, how the hell do I ask someone to direct me down the road that leads to my own life?
And Time is, of course, all-healing. Give anything enough Time, and everything is taken care of: all pain encompassed, all hardship erased, all loss subsumed.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember, man, that thou art dust; and unto dust thou shalt return.
And if Time is anything akin to God, I suppose that Memory must be the Devil."
-Diana Gabaldon
I've come to the conclusion that I have a plethora of amazing acquaintances, and not a single dear close friend. It's sad, but more than anything, it's lonely.
The lighting storm the other night was exhilarating. I walked home in it, watching Nature's display of anger and fireworks, shaking my head at the pathetic colorful replicas below it, the spray of patriotism, screaming for the same attention. I waited for the rain that I knew would eventually follow, begged for it silently. Anger like that always has tears of exhaustion and sorrow in the wings just waiting, they're there to refresh and calm... but they never came. I walked home dry as a whistle.
I need to get on with my life, find that next step and take it. I just wish I knew where it was. I feel like I've been at this cross-road before, my map unrolled, searching desperately for any sign of life, or a way on to 'greener pastures.' I guess I've never been the type to ask for directions, but then again, how the hell do I ask someone to direct me down the road that leads to my own life?