365 Attempts (At Life)

It seems to me, back then, all I wanted was to get here. To this time in my life. I was in such a hurry. Now, all I want to do is crawl back into my journals. And remember wonder and innocence. It’s so funny that it’s sad, really. We run and we run until we outrun our Self.

There’s so much beneath the surface. So much the eye can’t see. The truth is, we’re all icebergs. Broken off from something larger than just ourselves. Our depth can be misjudged. More often than not. And we can sink even the mightiest of ships. Simply by attempting to keep our heads above water.

We were sitting in the tall grass on the mountain checking out the view. There were signs cautioning us of black bears. But we were too busy talking and being silly. I showed him how to play ‘chicken or rooster’ with the weeds. We played a few rounds. I remember he laughed really hard at something. It was infectious. So I laughed too. And I thought to myself how much I could love him. If only he’d let me.

An unrecognizable reflection in the mirrors you cross. Your own impulsiveness has made you feel like a stranger. You’re not even sure why. But you look away. For now. And until you can properly articulate what you need to say, you choose to stop talking. Because it’s a bundle of contradictions in your mind. And how do you explain feeling lost pacing your own corridors?

Like an out of body experience I lived yesterday completely outside myself. I was moving, eating, listening but I was somewhere else. Completely. Unable to get any vacation time, I took a holiday from me for the day. Unconsciously. Without choice in the matter. It’s like my Self said, “That's it! Enough of you. I need a break!” And I’d catch myself staring into space listlessly while friends were conversing or laughing. I wasn’t thinking of anything. I was blank. I just floated above it. I wasn’t there. It was weird. And my body felt heavy. Like those dreams where you can’t seem to stop falling asleep. So disconnected. So dazed. I didn’t like it. I wanted the rest of me to escape, too. I wanted to run after my spirit and apologize for being such a pain in the ass lately. To ask it not to leave me here feeling so zombified. But I didn’t have the energy to. I just didn’t. As I walked out of the restaurant we were in, I saw a flyer. It ...

Assemble bricks and make a wall. But drill a small hole to see through it.

OK I’m not really Irish, but what's a little white lie in exchange for a kiss? Kissing. Is. Amazing. Isn’t it? I think it is. It’s underrated. A dying art in a world too quick to cut to the chase and cop a feel. And if it’s done with the right physical appetite between the two kissers, well… It can be transcendental. The first kiss can be bliss. Built up with a soft sexual tension. Ample curiosity. The shyness, the newness, the spark. That first time you both lean in with intent. Foreheads close. Lips an inch apart. Breath shared. Hearts beating fast. That second before your lips are introduced. It’s so short, but it feels like time has stopped. Just to prepare for what comes next. Then the lips touch. And you’re lost in it. The discovery. It’s soft. It’s urgent. It's timeless. It’s a gateway. Silent communication at its boldest. Worth the little white lie. Don't you agree?