I wish I could write better stories, ones that would sway you into that parallel world of meaning, of clear beginnings and rightful ends. I wish I could provide you with mental images of severe beauty, the kind that moves your entire being, yet still manages to anchor you in an aesthetic serenity. I could write about moments that shake your senses, moments that you almost believe are yours alone, moments that stop your mind for a split second and you are in absolute surrender.
What if i wrote to you about the few seconds in between your last conscious thought and the beginning of your dream, where your mind softly switches and you have no control but to exist elsewhere, in a self composed dream as your body lay still, resting. How do i begin to describe the warmth of a hug when you truly need it, or the intensity of a push when you don’t see it coming?
I look for words everywhere, and when i find them I stop for a second and then I panic, because how do i possibly bring to life something so subjective yet absolutely intimidating. I suppose that is the quest for meaning, the eternal pursuit begins and ends with putting words to thoughts, and emotions in hopes of transcending a flawed perception of reality.