Wednesday, May 19, 2010


note: pardon my ramblings. sometimes you just need a place to emotionally vomit.]

It's an interesting thing, what I did. There in my hands, I held a very secure and certain future. But I wasn't happy. I was standing on the fringes, going through the motions--the very dull and mundane motions. So I decided to trade that security for what I already knew would be a journey down a path that, while responsible for many moments of elation and fulfillment, is completely, utterly, and hopelessly unpredictable.

Always "touch and go."

Always "touch and go."

One minute he's there, with sweet nothings and implied promises. So in that minute you abandon all reason and live only within the moment. The two of you fit together like a hook and eye. You understand him and he understands you. Adoration blossoms and affection grows. Each second in that minute yields an experience you never imagined in your wildest dreams you'd be a part of. "Love," or the idea of it, seems full of endless possibilities and unforgettable occurrences... Then the sixtieth seconds ticks by. Your "minute" is over. It's the next minute and he's not there. Just like that, you are back, sitting on your sofa, hours to kill, watching your mobile with the eye of an eagle, wishing, wondering, willing the next experience into existence.

But I couldn't have it any other way. Somewhere along the line, I made the deliberate choice to go gladly into the realm of the inexplicable and the capricious, always waiting for the next phone call that could change my day, my week, my life. Always, always, always "touch and go."



"Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way. Because without it, I don't know; maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying? Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop."

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