Flashes

Sometimes I stop and feel like everything is happening too fast.

When did I get here? No I'm not complaining about it, I just get a little apprehensive, sometimes? Like I somehow worry that one day I'll wake up and realize I'm 50, balding, and alone somewhere and feel like I never lived at all.

It's a bit early to get a mid-life crisis. And I'm a bit old for the teenage identity crisis of who I am or what makes me me.

No, I'm not really worrying about being miserable in the future. That's not really it. I guess it's more of one of those days where I feel more... wistful. In tune with something I thought was long dead. I dismiss it sometimes as the artistic douche I'd like to keep buried, but this morning I woke up, saw that it was raining and suddenly felt like it was reason enough to smile.

The world can be strangely beautiful when you least expect it to be. I guess what I'm saying is that these flashes of random periods of time when you just feel like you appreciate everything more, when you feel like every drop of rain that falls on your head or every breath of air that fills your lungs can make you cry when you realize how... small you are. I guess I just haven't been feeling that way for a long time, thanks to the cynicism-soaked filter I view most of my life through.

Tonight I feel like I'm 14 again. I'm going to curl up in bed, write a bad werewolf story and listen to the Goo Goo Dolls. And maybe write a poem about how every drop of water in my radiator reflects my state of being. Then I'm going to just think of old times when Sarah, Shahril, Khai, Zan and Anas made me laugh.

And I'm going to read Jack London again this week. Just to round it all off.

And no one is going to stop me.