Whirrrr

If you look inside my head right now, or any other time for that matter, you'll see hundreds of thousands of tiny little machines with gears and levers and pistons chugh, chugh, chugging away with little gasps of steam coming out the little chimneys and being swallowed back up to prevent any wastage and together they resemble an air conditioning unit that provides you with an agreeable atmosphere to be in except when its late at night and you can't sleep and all you can hear is its constant whirrrrrrrr  and if you look closely you'll see that they're all moving at the fastest possible speed and if the pistons jumped any faster they'd jump right out my head and knock out some important screws with it.

So this thing has no start. There is no beginning. Its something that you experience in passing… like a huge passenger train with a big red engine that swooshes past the platform you’re on and it looks so cool and the breeze feels so great and your shaken for a bit but your hair will never be the same again.

Some things aren’t planned. Sometimes you just get lucky. And each time, we’re too naïve to realize it. We go through life trying to find logic in all that happens. Which were the words that bowled me over? Were there that many? Do those hands feel the same to everyone or is there really a story behind why it fits perfectly on the small of your back. The silly arguments, the laughter. Oh the laughter! More than enough to make lines on our faces in a few years. Random banter takes over your mind.

And then logic begins to evade you. Like a stupid drunk leprechaun… grinning yellow teeth each time and poof! So you decide to be brave. To butch up and do it. To jump, into something you have celestially no idea how it’d turn out… just to see how it would. The journey. The energy. The high. You want to be brave. You want to trust your heart, blindly. You want to feel the most honest, untainted, anti-normal feeling there is.  And then, you hope he does too.

We’re in a constant state of want. A constant state of need. We’re again too naïve to admit that we constantly need to belong. To belong to this phenomenon that’s greater that yourself. To share that high with someone who’s feeling it himself.

So you do it. You make that mark. You place that bet. You lay out you cards. And then, reality checks in.

* Scramble  *

You’ll do fine. We’re all ok. Logic, my best friend, is always one deduction away. You’re brave, you deduce, you drown out. That train’s left.

The moments passed. Arresting finality stares you in the face. But, your heart’s still racing…