The sun is warm on my skin. I can smell the scent of roses from my hair, drying slowly, bouncing curls slightly. The dust on my windshield refracts the light into my sunglasses. I am temporarily blinded, all senses occupied. My brain is sent out onto universal tasks. I see all of the signs. The ones that I had been repressing on harsher days, nodding to on gentler ones. Today, it was like a pull. I needed to drive. I was being called by a higher power. To move. So I do. I don't remember driving. I just recall the feeling.
I suddenly become self conscious. I wonder, who am I and why can I be so weird at times? Or all the time... I'm reassured almost immediately. I smile and get out of the car. It is almost like we can't look at each other, but want to find a time to observe when the other isn't paying attention. Simultaneously, we have established a strange dance. You talk about the sun coming in on my eyes and we both linger, awkwardly, finding deeper meaning in the silence. You talk about pools of honey, as your mother says to you, and I smile. How many times have I described eyes, just like that. I wonder if you have thought about oceanic views, sky lines, deep pools of waves that circle inside retinas.
I feel familiarity too soon and it embarrasses me deeply. You tell me it's cute and it only makes it worse, but in the best way. When I get up to the top of the hill, I overlook and recall the past. Parts of the people that remain in my heart. Heavy and sullen. Elated and warm. The mix of time and space has made things mingle, unclear. I feel a pull to this place. The way the current rolls over rocks, creating a wave that sucks in my breath all at once. I look back and forth and I remember being there before. I briefly mention it, but the words are paper in the breeze, silent confetti. I quickly remember capsizing and losing things. Being sunburnt and feeling vulnerable. My head throbbed from a kayak hitting my forehead in the current. It was an altering experience. I felt awakened. It was uncomfortable. Necessary. I mention a few things in staggered remarks and a smile reminds me that it is all from years past, though the feeling that I am where I should be is strikingly harsh.
The feeling. The one where an interesting anxiety rushes deep from the pit of my stomach, reminding me that it can be a good feeling, too. The butterflies of feeling an immeasurable attraction. Depth from chemistry. Oddities pulled by the gravitation of outside sources. Feeling like time holds no bounds because that feeling is inside, hollowing out a space that feels vast and wide. The scary feeling when you drop down on a roller coaster. You know you are safe, but are you truly? You aren't asked if it's okay to be forced into this space, you have already given your permission by climbing into the seat. There's a chance you will feel elated and laugh at the absurdity of being scared. Or, you may fall to your death. But, I see you smile and the words are reassuring, so onward we go.
I suddenly become self conscious. I wonder, who am I and why can I be so weird at times? Or all the time... I'm reassured almost immediately. I smile and get out of the car. It is almost like we can't look at each other, but want to find a time to observe when the other isn't paying attention. Simultaneously, we have established a strange dance. You talk about the sun coming in on my eyes and we both linger, awkwardly, finding deeper meaning in the silence. You talk about pools of honey, as your mother says to you, and I smile. How many times have I described eyes, just like that. I wonder if you have thought about oceanic views, sky lines, deep pools of waves that circle inside retinas.
I feel familiarity too soon and it embarrasses me deeply. You tell me it's cute and it only makes it worse, but in the best way. When I get up to the top of the hill, I overlook and recall the past. Parts of the people that remain in my heart. Heavy and sullen. Elated and warm. The mix of time and space has made things mingle, unclear. I feel a pull to this place. The way the current rolls over rocks, creating a wave that sucks in my breath all at once. I look back and forth and I remember being there before. I briefly mention it, but the words are paper in the breeze, silent confetti. I quickly remember capsizing and losing things. Being sunburnt and feeling vulnerable. My head throbbed from a kayak hitting my forehead in the current. It was an altering experience. I felt awakened. It was uncomfortable. Necessary. I mention a few things in staggered remarks and a smile reminds me that it is all from years past, though the feeling that I am where I should be is strikingly harsh.
The feeling. The one where an interesting anxiety rushes deep from the pit of my stomach, reminding me that it can be a good feeling, too. The butterflies of feeling an immeasurable attraction. Depth from chemistry. Oddities pulled by the gravitation of outside sources. Feeling like time holds no bounds because that feeling is inside, hollowing out a space that feels vast and wide. The scary feeling when you drop down on a roller coaster. You know you are safe, but are you truly? You aren't asked if it's okay to be forced into this space, you have already given your permission by climbing into the seat. There's a chance you will feel elated and laugh at the absurdity of being scared. Or, you may fall to your death. But, I see you smile and the words are reassuring, so onward we go.
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