Can you dance? I wish I could dance. When you dance you look so graceful and so beautiful. Dancing would be something I would do everyday. I think I'd be a ballet dancer, just to prove to myself that I could do it. If I could dance, that is. I have friends who dance, and they make it seem so easy. I do not try to dance in front of them, the one time I did they laughed and told me it was funny. I didn't mean it to be funny, I tried. Dancing just seems so fun and I think dancing in front of people would be the best just so they could know that I've done something that makes me look so great and graceful. Those shoes the dancers wear look silly. But I would wear them and enjoy looking silly in the clothes because while I was dancing they would look exactly right to match my dancing. I guess what I really mean by this is that I wish I was really good at something.
Staring up at space, the ground beneath me seems to loosen and even disappear. The stars become the floor and i feel myself falling. I become lightheaded and can't wait to get back inside and take a breath. I don't know why it scares me like that, it seems like realizing how small I am and how big the universe is simply unsettles me. I used to think I could probably go to space if space travel ever became safe enough, but now I can't look up at the sky without feeling like i'm going to pass out. This doesn't happen in the day time. When I see a plane go by I always marvel at it. I think about how big it is and how amazing it is that something that large could fly. 'Someone had to build that' I always think. 'Every nut and bolt, every seat, every window, the wheels, the wings, every little part. Then they had to paint it. How did they know it was correct? You could never judge your work from that close to the plane. It must be automated. And someone had to build that machine too. And the factory. And every car that brought every employ there. And now there are thousands of these above and below. And everyday as if routine, someone gets in that plane, starts the engines by remote, calls over the radio to gain clearance, rolls down a length of tar or concrete so great that you can't even see the end, and finally fly. This behemoth of metal, rubber, glass, and god knows what else lifts off the ground carrying as much as it can fit and flies to another continent just as it was designed to do'. The sight of a plane amazes me despite everyone else, but the sight of anything beyond is just shy of vertigo.
When I stumbled through the resistance field I was looking for a place to sleep. I was holding my wounds together with my jacket. I was walking with a limp. When I slept I dreamt of tapioca pudding and chardonnay on a picnic table on a breezy hill. And you were there with your perspective on everything. You were adjusting your position. You were wearing your perfume. When I woke up I was in a prison cell, my wounds were mended with gauze and ointment-goo. (There was no site of you). There were guards in the prison-ways. There were light beams in the alleyway. I was in a prison cell with no cheese or chardonnay. I grabbed my jacket and dashed straight towards the resistance field. And with sparks and jolts I stumbled through.
It's kind of discouraging, you know? I am nineteen and soon to be married. It's kind of scary. Any time we tell anyone, it's a negative response. No one seems to believe in love anymore. It's sad. Sure, I'm young, but that shouldn't discredit any of the feelings that I have inside. I have been through a lot of shit that has forced me to grow up much quicker than the people around me. I am nineteen, but I have more of the maturity and wisdom of an older person. So has he. We are both older adults, trapped in these young bodies. We are old enough to know what love is, and we are old enough to know that this is what we want. We don't want to spend the rest of our youth making the dumb decisions that we have made so many times before. We have both already experienced first loves and broken hearts. We know what we want and what we don't want out of life. It's going to be hard, and sometimes it's going to be lonely. But I think it is worth it. We are both surrounded by so many people who don't support us and who are still stuck chasing after the childish things of their youth. We have both already started growing up, stepping out of those childish happenings. We are young, but we are old too. Don't try to tell us that we are in for a life of misery. We know what real love is. Isn't that enough?
There is a thrust of distraction that surges during the peak productivity hours of the day. Political events, financial happenings, corporate takeovers, holiday sales, celebrity gossip... it's all confetti from hell that sparkles and whizzes and taps on your focus-shields and whispers through your earplugs: "this is important." What do you do? It is your daily battle. It is the crisis of your mind. Your attention is at stake. Your future hangs in the balance. I know bad things are going down. I know we are expecting snow. I know things are happening that will change everything, and that revolutions are being born and revolutions are being squashed. Reason matters not. Faith matters not. Truth matters not. Only agendas and opportunities take heed. Only the things that arouse the powerful matter to the powerful.