(no subject)
Mar. 3rd, 2024 12:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nowiammyselfFor the first time in my life, on the cusp of 30, I stayed out until 6:30am, drunk on nothing but feminine energy, surrounded by women younger than me who grabbed my hand and pulled me into the middle of the circle to dance.
Life is weird sometimes, taking me to unexpected places. The empty midnight sevillan streets, cobblestone slippery wet from sporadic rainfall, street lights casting an orange glow over old buildings and old streets, the air is chilly but we walk on.
I look at women with their soft bodies and I don't know if I wish I looked like them or if I wish that I could kiss them. I don't know if I'm jealous that I was never so carefree in my 20s or if I'm mourning the loss of a life I never lived. Taylor plays over the speakers and our circle huddles closer together, we scoot in so close that we can feel each other's heat and we belt out all 10 minutes of the lyrics to All Too Well. We are all crumpled up pieces of paper; a circle of cathartic release.
Life is usually boring, for me at least, although I wish that it weren't. I craft stories in my head. I think of pretty phrases, poetic ideas, and I usually don't jot them down. I spend an hour in bed each morning daydreaming. My alarm sounds at 6am and I readjust my pillows, snuggle under covers and dream of exciting things that won't happen to me.
I try to remind myself that life is not a movie; life is not a novel; life is not a story to be written but something to be lived. But I continue to dream.
Life is weird sometimes, taking me to unexpected places. The empty midnight sevillan streets, cobblestone slippery wet from sporadic rainfall, street lights casting an orange glow over old buildings and old streets, the air is chilly but we walk on.
I look at women with their soft bodies and I don't know if I wish I looked like them or if I wish that I could kiss them. I don't know if I'm jealous that I was never so carefree in my 20s or if I'm mourning the loss of a life I never lived. Taylor plays over the speakers and our circle huddles closer together, we scoot in so close that we can feel each other's heat and we belt out all 10 minutes of the lyrics to All Too Well. We are all crumpled up pieces of paper; a circle of cathartic release.
Life is usually boring, for me at least, although I wish that it weren't. I craft stories in my head. I think of pretty phrases, poetic ideas, and I usually don't jot them down. I spend an hour in bed each morning daydreaming. My alarm sounds at 6am and I readjust my pillows, snuggle under covers and dream of exciting things that won't happen to me.
I try to remind myself that life is not a movie; life is not a novel; life is not a story to be written but something to be lived. But I continue to dream.
