Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Making sense of shapes

You know that feeling of gazing at someone and thinking " God she's so damn beautiful " and you're suddenly flooded with this inexplicable envy of beautiful like you're staring at a unicorn? Yea, I had that feeling today. *Stares at reflection* Yep, life sure dealt me the shorter end of the stick.

It's 4am, I've just compiled a list of movies I'd like to catch by the end of 13', capped it at 30 and I think that's quite a fair bit. I do look forward to school, yet I dread it all the same. Being held vice by the reins of routine just seems a tad too dreary for me. In 7 months I will lose my freedom of being up at 4 in the morning devouring beautiful language and pixels online, compiling frivolous thoughts and scribblings in my little black book and lying on bed wondering about life.  I don't know how I'd adapt, but being mediocre is getting far too boring.

That's the thing about me I grapple with all the time, this strange intrinsic inability to gel both ends of the characteristic spectrums. I've always been either or, and when I'm here I want to be there too. It's not your classic case of the greener grass on the other side. However I am, wherever I am, I manage to wring out gratitude for that moment, staring starry eyed at what I have... but it's just me, to want more of the other side.

Maybe I'm confused, maybe I'm just greedy, or maybe I haven't been trying hard enough.

I find it splendid to be the power woman toting about precariously on 6 inch Louboutins, swinging my Hermes bag about like sunshine. Yet I find it just as beautiful to be bounding carefree barefooted on soft sand, picking up seashells and dropping them into a basket. And it doesn't make sense to be swinging my Hermes ( not that I have one ) by the beach and throwing seashells in or to be carrying a basket about while I try not to fall to my death in my 6 inch monsters. Please don't take me literally on this .____.

I'm just saying I could be happy simple, I could be happy (working towards being) extravagant.
And I have to put my finger on the map somewhere don't I?

Alice came to a fork in the road. 

“Which road do I take?” she asked.

“Where do you want to go?” responded the Cheshire cat.

“I don’t know,” Alice answered.

“Then,” said the cat, “it doesn’t matter.



But then again, if I don't work slave for all that dough, how am I supposed to find the money to migrate somewhere to grow cows and pick seashells?

But I don't want to lose myself being too caught up in either, both are me afterall.
I think I just did a dog chasing car moment.
I'm confusing myself again aren't I?
Okay, go to bed Audrey, maybe your puny brain has been hurting so badly because you've been trying to make sense of yourself so much, it's like trying to make sense of shapes.


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