Making it to Here
Dear Journal,
I have personified you, because in truth, it is the only justification I have for talking to myself. It's March 3, 2013. More simply, it's 2013. I haven't written to you in 3 years, which is fine, because those 3 years have kept me more than busy, apparently. What can I say about the present tense that would be of some interest to you? Well, not much, considering you're just a manifestation of my mind, thus, you know everything that I know, and vice versa. How, I wonder, has time managed to pass by so slowly, yet so quickly all within the same time frame? I've looked back at old journal entries, seemingly from 2010, but I catch myself asking who in the world wrote that? What kind of teenage child-like brain formulated such incoherent babble? Oh yeah, that was me... And I wasn't a teenager...
I have nothing to vent about, no worries, no "meaning of life" questionnaires to Christmas tree... Nothing like that, but I have gotten to thinking about life's muses, specifically mine, because I like to think of myself as an artist of sorts, with the use of my words. I am in love with the most beautiful, witty, charming, clever, and comfortable girl I feel I have ever crossed paths with, and she has taught me how to do more than exist. Enchanting, I think.
"Do more than exist..."
That is of course my present day motto, as I slip deeper into the abyss that is adulthood. In either case, when I think about her, I think about writing, but when my pen touches paper, my mind goes too far too fast, and I can't retrieve all the thoughts in order to write them down. It's refreshingly frustrating, and even now I am searching for the patience of mind to type something of her, something of us, something of the life we now share, but all I can do is let my mind race, as I sit back and smile.
Calm down brain. Control yourself.
Your eyes are what I love most about you, specifically when your arms are at my sides and you're hovering over me, teasing me with your "I'm gonna kiss you" smile. Though I love the look of your lips, I can't stop staring at your eyes, because they have this glow in them, a glow that only shines in this calm and intimate moment between you and I. They say you reach Heaven by following the light, and that's certainly true of the light I follow in your eyes. I make it to Heaven every time you look at me with those eyes. God, I love you.
I have personified you, because in truth, it is the only justification I have for talking to myself. It's March 3, 2013. More simply, it's 2013. I haven't written to you in 3 years, which is fine, because those 3 years have kept me more than busy, apparently. What can I say about the present tense that would be of some interest to you? Well, not much, considering you're just a manifestation of my mind, thus, you know everything that I know, and vice versa. How, I wonder, has time managed to pass by so slowly, yet so quickly all within the same time frame? I've looked back at old journal entries, seemingly from 2010, but I catch myself asking who in the world wrote that? What kind of teenage child-like brain formulated such incoherent babble? Oh yeah, that was me... And I wasn't a teenager...
I have nothing to vent about, no worries, no "meaning of life" questionnaires to Christmas tree... Nothing like that, but I have gotten to thinking about life's muses, specifically mine, because I like to think of myself as an artist of sorts, with the use of my words. I am in love with the most beautiful, witty, charming, clever, and comfortable girl I feel I have ever crossed paths with, and she has taught me how to do more than exist. Enchanting, I think.
"Do more than exist..."
That is of course my present day motto, as I slip deeper into the abyss that is adulthood. In either case, when I think about her, I think about writing, but when my pen touches paper, my mind goes too far too fast, and I can't retrieve all the thoughts in order to write them down. It's refreshingly frustrating, and even now I am searching for the patience of mind to type something of her, something of us, something of the life we now share, but all I can do is let my mind race, as I sit back and smile.
Calm down brain. Control yourself.
Your eyes are what I love most about you, specifically when your arms are at my sides and you're hovering over me, teasing me with your "I'm gonna kiss you" smile. Though I love the look of your lips, I can't stop staring at your eyes, because they have this glow in them, a glow that only shines in this calm and intimate moment between you and I. They say you reach Heaven by following the light, and that's certainly true of the light I follow in your eyes. I make it to Heaven every time you look at me with those eyes. God, I love you.