silkandwind (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} silkandwind) wrote,@ 2005-03-19 17:09:00 |
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I used to live life without ever thinking about it. Days were days and that was it. I cried and I laughed and it all felt the same.
For a few months I became obsessed with 'life'. What it was. What these moments were. When I was living.
To this day I don't feel as if I'm living all of the time. At select moments I feel it and I think, "This is life."
Last night I was crying in the backseat of a car in a parking lot. Completely self-absorbed I turned my head to look out the window. My eyes were met by a middle aged man in the car next to us. He had been watching me cry. And I thought, "This is life".
The snow was quickly gathering on the windshield and I wished the blizzard would thicken and wrap around me like a curtain, my own private play.
For a few months I became obsessed with 'life'. What it was. What these moments were. When I was living.
To this day I don't feel as if I'm living all of the time. At select moments I feel it and I think, "This is life."
Last night I was crying in the backseat of a car in a parking lot. Completely self-absorbed I turned my head to look out the window. My eyes were met by a middle aged man in the car next to us. He had been watching me cry. And I thought, "This is life".
The snow was quickly gathering on the windshield and I wished the blizzard would thicken and wrap around me like a curtain, my own private play.
