I can’t stop.
Writing I mean. Or loving. Or dying. Or living. What’s the difference between them these days?
It’s everywhere. Leaking out of me in the shower. Spilling out of my dreams. Catching me while I’m driving. Pulling me away when I’m talking. I try to sleep but can’t. I’m half running on a treadmill, half reciting. I’m half reading in my head, half drawing outloud. I can’t escape this melting, and I don’t want to.
It’s everywhere, this vibrant existing. I’m listening to music and it feels like I’m kissing…not with my lips, but with something deeper, like an ocean. Like one of those kisses that feels like eternity, that make you shut your eyes and makes you think of tenderness without needing or caring that there are words for it. One of those kisses that make you dizzy while you’re sober, one of those kisses that block out all the noise and explodes your ears. I’m dancing when I’m sitting still, in a seat in class listening to the harmony of I’m-Not-Sure-But-It’s-Beautiful-Can’t-You-Hear-It?. I’m having full-blown conversations with eye-contact, and I’m watching objects sing.
I sound crazy, and I’ve never felt more in-tact. I’ve never loved sharper, never hurt greater. My soul feels like it’s all over my skin; my dreams, pulsing through my veins. It’s like all this time I thought the presence of light meant nothing could hide.But shadows! Shadows are breathtakingly beautiful if only you aren’t scared to shine on them. It’s more than just letting my scars be seen, but more like my scars have been turned-inside-out. Before my eyes, humans are multiplying in stories, while stories are just as rapidly changing shapes.
I’m dying, I’m shaking, I’m crying, I’m laughing, I’m fighting, I’m falling,I’m haulting, I’m soaring, I’m flying, I’m—
I’m struggling, I’m drowning, I’m reaching, and I’m smiling at how the Universe is playing this epic joke on my every move, every thought. I’m resounding, so beautifully and poetically, in every inch.
It’s like I know it’s all ending, and my heart’s wildly applauding the curtain’s fall with all the enthusiasm it can muster—
It’s a standing ovation while the weight of the world is coming down so hard upon my shoulders that my clapping for an encore has all the intensity of prayer–
It’s a feeling that wrestles tears so hard from my eyes I don’t have time to wonder if it’s because the performance of Life is so comedic or so tragic or so goddamn BOTH—
I’m an audience member in a sea full of heroes who don’t know they’re all the one main character. It’s frightening, it’s hilarious, it’s me looking around and wondering and shouting Does Anyone Else See This!?
I think it’s called passion.
I’m on fire.
I want to set the world on fire.
To all burn, to all go up in flames so high that we mistake each other for stars.