Every now and then, only not as frequently as that phrasing makes it sound, I will have a moment - an instence - of pure contentment. A moment where I think, if I could just freeze time, if I could just live and re-live this moment for the rest of existence, I would be happy. I remember the first time I had this thought, at least the first time in my semi-adult existence, and I remember most of them that have happened since. They're all different. Some seem a little silly, others, idyllic. Almost all naive. But I can still remember the ways these moments made me feel, the assurance, the relief they offered.
It's funny to think how, if I had had my way, I could be stuck under a tree in the rain, or staring contentedly at someone I used to know so well, or looking up at a set of bright stadium lights.
But living in any one of these would have meant missing out on every other moment that followed. It would mean I would be perpetually 16 and happy, or 17 and confident, or anything else that I have been. But it would also mean being nothing that I am.
Because I can't be anything other than the product of my troubles, finding refuge in the light of my days. I don't know how. And I'm okay with that.
More than okay.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Seasons
I was once told that there is a seasonality to life beyond the changing of the natural world around us - in our attitudes, relationships, and thoughts. Lately, this has been proving itself true in my life. The easiest way for me to describe the past couple weeks of my life is as being hot and cold. One minute I'm excelling, the next I'm stressing. One day I'm everyone's friend, the next I'm feeling like no one cares.
Each morning I wake up at 7 to get ready for class, and everyday while I'm riding the bus I have this moment where I catch a glimpse of the sun really beginning to start to poke through the morning fog with some force, and I have this momentum inside of me to live and be happy doing it. And then, bit by bit through out the day, little pieces of that fall away and are replaced by the obstacles that cross my path, and by the end of the day sleep feels like my closest friend. And it's exhausting.
It seems like consistency is the hardest thing to find in life.
Each morning I wake up at 7 to get ready for class, and everyday while I'm riding the bus I have this moment where I catch a glimpse of the sun really beginning to start to poke through the morning fog with some force, and I have this momentum inside of me to live and be happy doing it. And then, bit by bit through out the day, little pieces of that fall away and are replaced by the obstacles that cross my path, and by the end of the day sleep feels like my closest friend. And it's exhausting.
It seems like consistency is the hardest thing to find in life.
Monday, November 14, 2011
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