Fair Flying

On occasion, I become sick of balloons and their neglectful treachery as I attempt to tolerate their ambiguity and lift myself up from the clouds. Sometimes, I am done with balloons and the way they tempt me with delusions I know will never be as I tug myself out from the crowds.

A velvet night sky grinning like a Cheshire cat, whilst cherry bombs pop against the eerie beam of a spumescent moon.

Distance is a funny thing. It fills with unspoken words on metal tongues and cheesy grins on post cards and profane bumper stickers. It's all about context, and not so much about reality. It's a pain, but it can also be a blessing in disguise. That's cliche but it's true. Distance reveals the best in us, and the worst. It is the pinnacle of happy endings and sad beginnings. It's the difference between love and happiness. It's the true meaning of freedom, and mystery. It helps us feel truly grateful for what we have, and miserably yearning for what we don't. But distance is distance. And we are people. We can only be so patient, so nimble. And yet we can stretch out to the borders, to the several seas, to the plethora of horizons and the cornucopia of unknowns. We have so much, it's just spread out across this huge field called distance. It's not really far away. Nothing is ever too far.  Many think distance creates boundaries. I think it

Every year, seasons come and go and holidays come and go as well. I used to think they'd pile atop one another like a giant glob of dandelion seeds. And yet, they string together, but in a different sense. It's like a timeline, highly obscure and infinitesimal, but so very bright. I can see what I've learned, and see what I've lost, and see what I have and always will love.  Good Friday in particular interests me because each year I find more and more reasons to love God. And each year the biggest reason makes itself known and strong. It amazes me; the way I see the world and perceive others seems to grow and flourish, as does my relationship with God.  And in turn, I encourage everyone to grow, expand and flourish in the light of the true goodness in the world. Look for the goodness in everything and everyone, and you will find a new light shed upon your life. It fills the emptiness and fills you.  I'm no preacher, I just like to share what I've learned from my

So, my English teacher had us do this "automatic writing", which was pretty much just us writing whatever first came to our minds. Needless to say, this made for lots of laughs, considering all of our brains are incredibly creative and highly bizarre.  Mine, for instance, came out making sense to myself in some parts, and no sense at all in others. I feel I am taking a bold move in sharing this with the internet, but it's only a teensy sliver of my mind as an entirety, so I'm not too worried. ~~~ There is blue. Blue everywhere. So many different shades of blue it's hard to keep track. I'm not entirely sure what it all means. I like to pretend I do, but I don't. Courageous flowers speak bold words nobody hears. And in the starry nights, sometimes our eyes become achromic with the delight of the world. I'd like to think so. My doubts float around me in endless spectacles of fog and I hardly have the time to tamper with them. Carnival streets

I don't know what it is about the change of seasons. . . but every time a new season comes shimmying in, I feel so ridiculously nostalgic.  Tons and tons of memories, good and bad (mostly good), compile in my mind and settle there for what seems to be the longest time, stirring and simmering. I think them over, some of them more than once. I think of the change that comes with every season, and the change that has happened in my life thus far. I think of the change that has yet to come, but is creeping on the horizon like sunlight. It scares me. It even makes me a little sad.  But that is, I suppose, what nostalgia is: that melancholy yearn for the past, that incredibly wise fear for the future. Everything is just so big and broad, it's hard to stop thinking about it. I could sit in front of my open window for an entire day and not run out of things to think about. I just wish I could figure out why  I feel this way. Is it the reminder of grand change t