Serendipity and still not enough

Now you stepped outside. You’re not sad nor happy, but there’s an aching pain in your chest. It’s like that state when you’re not awake, but not asleep either.

Plain. But still bothered. Like when you have a little pebble in your shoe. Fuck that pebble.

You put your earphones on and breathe in the warm scented summer air. Music blasts and connects the dots in your soul just like you did when you were little on the coloring books. You close your eyes and a flood of memories start to crash on your temples and emotions resurrect.

You frown and look down.
Why did I not have the courage? Why I couldn’t let go of my pride? Why try to impress people that don’t give a shit about me? Why does rejection have the opposite effect? Why do I think that if I’ll have an answer, it will gratify my ego? What if nothing will change?

I should’ve listened. Cared. Loved. Given. And other times I shouldn’t have. So many should’ve, could’ve. 


So many personas you could be, various potential versions of you. But you still think you choose the worst one.. Constant voices whispering that you’re not enough. Never enough.

How can one continuously crave to be a whole spectrum of forms?  How can you express enough of what bottles in inside of you? It’s never enough. After I say, write, do there’s always something left lingering, that may have been better. Always, always, always.

You change the song. The dusty bubble gum horizon is gently caressed by soft golden puffs. Life is majestic . And you are a complex conglomerate of cells with the deepest of thought processes and feelings. Weird. But as Voltaire said, If there’s no God it would be necessary to invent him. HE raises the bar.

One step, two steps, three… who’s counting, you look up in the sky and little incandescent dots sparkle magically. There were starsThey burned my eyes.

And they’re dead. Imploded gas clouds. Scientifically sounds so not 19th century romantic. But your heart has premature ventricular contractions whenever a glittery dot scratches the sky. We know them as falling stars. They’re only meteoroids falling into the Earth’s atmosphere and burning up. Just like one falls in love.

 It’s expected for one be mesmerized when you rise you eyes and catch the infinite, even if you know all the scientific answers.
You want to thank someone when nature unfolds in front of you and leaves you speechless and gives you sublime feelings. The gratitude bursts from within you. It’s intrinsic.

We’re tremendous symbolical creatures investing most things with a meaning. Transcendental one or terrestrial.

Volume goes up and the corners of your mouth do too. The sweet perfume of linden impregnates in your nostrils completing the picture like a golden frame.

So good to be alive.