So here I am. New place. Too many clothes, somehow impossibly messy, somehow impossibly happy, indefinitely in pain. In pain. In disappointment. In the magic. In the dream. Living the dream I clung to so tightly and effortlessly last year. Exhausted. Wild. Fervent. Youthful. Adventuresome. Alive. Awake. Aware. In love. And so utterly and insatiably frustrated. Alive, alive alive…that’s what I have to remember. Alive. And how am I transforming now and into what and where and why. Life is so much more than passive. Life is golden. Life is coming and coming and coming. And somehow, at the end of the world…life is screaming. I am screaming. Always into the endless void…let there be no more, no less than this. Let this be life.
I make a wish and the wish is for magic.
I can feel the past creeping up on me like light, like endless ageless rays of everything I am, have been, could be, will be. Have to keep saying will be, will be, will be.