2005-11-06
when in rome...-antic moods
in the very center of my core, i know there exists the sweet, endearing dream of someone else. sometimes i see minute pieces of him in the people around me that i love so much. this part of me truly comprises a big aspect of my identity. and in its existence, i know it can be satiated, and hell, even exceeded.
there are few things in my life and i am completely sure of.
one is my success. because i am actively making that happen.
the other is this. i'll find someone. i have before, and i will again. we'll find each other.
there is LOVE in this world, more than we can see, so invisible and sometimes so elusive that not even the owner of the love itself can realize it.
all these invisible, steadfast strings of love linking everyone in the world in some beautiful webbed chain.
the most goddamned beautiful thing ever to exist.
love so deep so real you can hear it! (I have no idea what it sounds like)
there is love, and i am a part of it.
"I pick a book up. Turn the sheets down.
Take a deep breath and a good look around
Put on my pjs and hop into bed
I'm half alive but I feel mostly dead
I try and tell myself it'll be all right
I just shouldn't think anymore tonight 'cause
Dreams last for so long
Even after you're gone
I know you love me
And soon I know you will see
You were meant for me
And I was meant for you"
I need to try to rectify myself about hope. I wrote about its appalling characteristics already. For me, I need to see the beauty of it instead. I need to. I had better accept it, though not surrender to it.
Hope flutters. It is light and whispy, as exquisite as a snowflake. It is beautifully oblivious. Yes, beautifully so. It turns away from the cynics of the world, from the taunting putdowns of a grim reality. In such darkness, it creates its own light.
Hope is resilient, and is perhaps most beautiful because it is a part of you. That is best to be embraced, that this is a defining characteristic of your identity. It's gotten you places before; it shall again.
It is true that hope alone is not enough. Hope is never solely sufficient. This is important. There must be determination beyond a yearning desire, active determination to yield the wanted results. But the hope can help fuel the dreams.
It's easy to scoff and smirk at the pathetic qualities at hope. It is harder to deeply sigh and admire them, disregarding envy of its perseverance and wishing it was founded elsewhere. Instead embrace the goodness of hope.
Harder is usually better. And in this case, it really is. Honestly.
I'm not sure what more I can say about it. I'm getting better about my hope, about appropriately confining it and learning to see beyond it while still sustaining its beauty. I realize much of this can make no sense to anyone else, but it's important for me.
Dreams last for so long, even after you're gone...
...I will keep dreaming. But it's in this waking world where all truly exists.
p.s.: i really AM stronger than all of this. time for a hiatus.
leesah-likes at 1:17 p.m.