Whenever I read something by this particular author I feel like some how our subconcious is connected. I swear the words that are written are ones that I myself feel and have thought, just days or moments before reading them. So, when I came across this set of sentances today, I decided to make it blog worthy.
"a sense of urgency overtakes me. my body fades and my skin becomes ruddy. how long does the breath of romance linger on anyone's existential sweater? What is this that is passing me by? Is it wrong to want every moment to be infused with romance and emotion while I am young and still have a backbone strong enough to handle mistakes? What are we doing here? It is only a matter of time! My lungs shout to me, my slender thighs. There are mountains I will be too tired to climb later. Yet I still only look at them now. I sleep. I keep indoors when I ought not. The world of youth and beauty is as short a life as a plucked flower. I am plucked. You are plucked. The only possible space to do nothing was the womb."
Lately, I have felt guilty for not doing more, not being more, not living more, because sometimes the greatest feeling is doing nothing at all, which I suppose has something to do with the original comfort of being in the womb and the fear of breaking out of that comfort zone. getting a little to All of this being said, tonight I will indulge in the blanket of love that is my life and I wont feel guilty for it...not tonight anyway. Alright this is getting a little to heavy for a blog post...
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