the uncertainty really is crippling at times. i don’t want to be thrown into the unknown, into the lion’s den where those silent stealthy creatures wait patiently, with their eyes a harsh glow of yellow, to pounce on my tender and red flesh. i want to caress their thick golden-brown manes and befriend them; befriend the unknown. bask in it and understand that knowing will never be certain. even as the sky is blue and water is tasteless, i will never wholly know the full capacity or significance of anything.
i must go through life like the blue-grey waves that go through the pacific ocean. with grace, serenity and calmness. i must thrive living in the sun-lit present, not ferociously stir the sizzling acidic cauldron that is the past or pull out my curls from my scalp, over the future. with existing in the present, comes living in the present. a concept of not wanting to merely exist, but to live, although cliche, it is one of the many truths of life. existing is staying alive because one feels obliged to do so. life, when one solely exists, is a burden and an obstacle in itself. living, on the other hand, is staying alive because every bone, vein and atom in one’s body tells them that their life is beautiful. moving through life when one truly lives is effortless. each day is a freshly blossomed sakura flower in april. it is feasible and one is grateful. living is a blessing that many take for granted.
once a person has mastered the art of living, and doing so with such feverish drive, coupled with this, comes romanticizing that very life being lived. living and romanticizing are that of inseparable twins submerged deeply in the womb.
go for chilly midnight drives with the windows rolled completely down, rushing through the concrete highway, with the sultry smell of the city wind up your nose and tangled in your hair, as you encapsulate the essence of the night. music plays loudly on the speakers and your hands are out the window as you contort them in snake-like motions to the flow of the wind. your best friend is next to you, and you’re on the way to a steep mountain top to gaze at the city lights that are fireflies painted onto the black sky.
take walks on the beach as the moon-lit sand crawls in between and softens your toes with each delicate stride. the smell of the succulent sea breeze is a drug. the ocean looks like an oozing pool of sickly tar, with splashes of white paint mimicking the streaks of light from the moon. accompanying you is the love of your life. you’re holding hands, feeling secured and calm in this moment. if you strip away the subtle glow of the moonlight, the ocean and the sky have no line of differentiation. both a shade of jet-black, not a single star in the sky. in your eyes, you are at the edge of the world. one wrong step, or if you were to let go of the one that keeps you grounded, could catapult you into nothingness. a suction of absolute darkness where you would either feel peace or agony. until you reach the edge and fall, you will never know.
sit on the terrace of your petite city apartment and read. the sunset is a blazing red with the heavy glow reaching the brittle pages of your favorite book. lightly caressing it, the words on the page are illuminated, and each letter of each word is clear to your eyes. a sizzling cup of chamomile tea next to you, in intervals you take sips and soon enough, you find yourself dozing off into your plush cream-colored chair, with the dim light of the sky kissing you goodnight. you dream of yourself encountering a sleeping willow. its stem and leaves move up and down in unison as it takes slight breaths, immersed in sleep. you walk quietly towards it, and lay down next to it. you sleep, engrossed in its veiny green leaves, as it is a blanket over your mind.
