What exactly does it take to always live in the moment?
It's as if life keeps taking me to the perils of the void that refuses to exist, leaves me there and never comes back. It's a rush, of course, because somehow, in some way, there's a ray of sunshine that seeps into the cracks, albeit short-lived. And for one brief moment, I relish in the fervor of its almost-perfection.
But then I (truly) open my eyes and realize it was just an oasis after all.
I have recently coerced my weary insides to work together to attain a single goal, which, so far, has been going pretty much alright. However, I still find myself selectively attentive to ideas that breed hypothetical scission. I have no idea if it's noticeable, but I try to make it appear as natural as possible. It's a process that I have yet to get through, of course, which makes life all the more painstaking. But that's that and I do not have control over everything, so I might as well just roll with it.
Nights such as the one that has just passed take me on a journey to the possibility of the beyond, but leaves me longing for the Cinderella story I have (previously) willingly casted to the starry sky. Longing, yes. Expecting, no. Because the beauty of reality is that it gives you exactly what you need at the most perfect time imaginable. It shows you that the little illusion you've repeatedly seen is nothing but exactly that-an illusion-which makes you choose to look past the fairy tale and into the workings of the actual world.
Painful, yes. But inappropriate? No.
It's as if life keeps taking me to the perils of the void that refuses to exist, leaves me there and never comes back. It's a rush, of course, because somehow, in some way, there's a ray of sunshine that seeps into the cracks, albeit short-lived. And for one brief moment, I relish in the fervor of its almost-perfection.
But then I (truly) open my eyes and realize it was just an oasis after all.
I have recently coerced my weary insides to work together to attain a single goal, which, so far, has been going pretty much alright. However, I still find myself selectively attentive to ideas that breed hypothetical scission. I have no idea if it's noticeable, but I try to make it appear as natural as possible. It's a process that I have yet to get through, of course, which makes life all the more painstaking. But that's that and I do not have control over everything, so I might as well just roll with it.
Nights such as the one that has just passed take me on a journey to the possibility of the beyond, but leaves me longing for the Cinderella story I have (previously) willingly casted to the starry sky. Longing, yes. Expecting, no. Because the beauty of reality is that it gives you exactly what you need at the most perfect time imaginable. It shows you that the little illusion you've repeatedly seen is nothing but exactly that-an illusion-which makes you choose to look past the fairy tale and into the workings of the actual world.
Painful, yes. But inappropriate? No.
posted from Bloggeroid
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