I must admit, I’m a bit embarrassed by how cliché this all is. Although, maybe the reason the expression of these feelings is so overused and overexposed is for the exact same reason people take photographs of pretty places and artists paint portraits of pleasing faces… All I know is through a stained glass window. I see a multitude of colors and when the light travels through, your brilliance is vivacious and lovely and takes on a life of its own. However, what my heart often fails to realize is that the patches of intricately arranged color through which I marvel at you are not the same patches that are stitched together in your actual design. I convince myself that even if the window were a magnifying glass, the answers I need would still be harbored in that meticulously meandering mind of yours, that underneath all those words burns a real, live spark with warmth that still ignites all the good things in myself, that I’d still wrap my arms around each of your flaws and nurture them as my own. If this window were a magnifying glass, I could scan every part of you at my own pace and discretion and I’m almost positive you’d still unknowingly have this inevitable, unexplainable hold on me… I should forget about all these silly windows though, because no matter the type, I’m aware that the desire does not lie on the other side, that while I’m gazing through my heart, you only gaze with your head. And no matter the miles between us or the nature of our exchanges, your heart will never be mine to take. But you will still enter my mind when those songs fill the room and I will still taste your name in my mouth when I am asked “who?” I guess you have made me into a fool… Yet I am so thankful for these windows. 8/22/11 - 2:29AM
August 22, 2011
Windows
August 17, 2011
Untitled
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I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or unhappy, but more than seldom I find myself wandering. Wandering the forests I’m too afraid to enter for fear of going off track, wandering the mountains I’m too cowardly to scale in case I lose sight of the ground, wandering the streets of what could be. It seems common and completely normal, but I just don’t feel right. How does one know for sure that they are where they should be? I thought I knew, but the places my mind has been taking me to keep saying otherwise.
What if I were to let go of my place in life at this moment and redefine it elsewhere? I’d always admired those who are able to pick up and move to mysterious places, leaving their old lives behind and starting anew. Of course, most of the times I’ve seen it happen have been through a television or movie screen as I’m sure it’s not the most practical way to go about things when you’re searching for something, but the uncertainty and possibility of it all intrigues me to no end.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. I have great family and amazing friends, I go to a wonderful school and I’m studying to become a nurse – something I’ve always dreamed of doing, but I’m wondering if it’s really where I belong. How does one settle down when there are so many other paths that can be taken? Yes, I’m happy with what I’m doing, but I’m not sure if it’s right. I wish I could live a hundred lives and trek down different roads, but sadly, we humans are only granted one. So how do I know that I’m spending my time the right way?
What if I were to pack up and take myself elsewhere?
Is all this wondering an indication that I’m not where I need to be, or am I just doubting myself for other reasons entirely? I’m finding it hard to commit my mind to one direction. What will make me the happiest and where do I find it? More importantly, how do I find it?
I have this strange sensation of that something more. It’s killing me that whatever that something is lies somewhere entirely undiscovered and most likely out of reach. I feel like a huge, vital part of me is missing and without it, I feel stuck. All I know is that it is there and I need it. Soon. So what do I do?
