unfold me
I think that I am going to redo my personal webpage and somehow incorporate this Sia song into it. It haunts me and despite having it on repeat for a few hours now, I can't leave it alone. Other than Tori and Casey, I never get as close to a song. I'll have to do some brainstorming at work tonight and then hopefully get started tomorrow.
I was in the kitchen tonight doing something completely mundane and I had the song playing in my head. And in a second, it was like the past and the present collided as they sometimes do in the atmosphere of the mind. I felt like I was in Philly circa Sept/Oct of 2004. The air was the same, the feeling the same, the heart palpatations, the rhythm of everything exactly the same except I was also standing in my kitchen. I get these kind of things somewhat often, but this one was so intense I felt as though if I closed my eyes, I could reach out and touch the past and get sucked right back into it. It would be as if this whole year was only a hallucination or a dream so condensed and fleeting when brought into reality that it could fit in the fraction of a second when your eyes go to blink and your lashes meet your skin. And I would be there, walking along the sidewalk in South Philly, holding hands with Michael or entwined on his couch watching tv and secretly listening to the sounds of each other breathing. He would ask me what I was thinking and I would say I just had a moment of deja-vu. How I wish it was only that.
So the tangibleness of it scared me enough that I forced myself to think about whatever I was really doing in the kitchen. Making pierogies, I believe.
I was in the kitchen tonight doing something completely mundane and I had the song playing in my head. And in a second, it was like the past and the present collided as they sometimes do in the atmosphere of the mind. I felt like I was in Philly circa Sept/Oct of 2004. The air was the same, the feeling the same, the heart palpatations, the rhythm of everything exactly the same except I was also standing in my kitchen. I get these kind of things somewhat often, but this one was so intense I felt as though if I closed my eyes, I could reach out and touch the past and get sucked right back into it. It would be as if this whole year was only a hallucination or a dream so condensed and fleeting when brought into reality that it could fit in the fraction of a second when your eyes go to blink and your lashes meet your skin. And I would be there, walking along the sidewalk in South Philly, holding hands with Michael or entwined on his couch watching tv and secretly listening to the sounds of each other breathing. He would ask me what I was thinking and I would say I just had a moment of deja-vu. How I wish it was only that.
So the tangibleness of it scared me enough that I forced myself to think about whatever I was really doing in the kitchen. Making pierogies, I believe.