threeinchestall

Simplicity. I just want to be with the friends that are true to me. The ones that have never failed. I want to have rough feet from walking through the woods all day and a soft head from never thinking a harmful thought and the sun pouring in on top of me.

I've been watching the Olympics. The most beautiful people are the triumphant, humble ones. The ones, mainly found in movies and there you are wishing only you could meet more of their reflections in real life. The people who have gone through so much in their life, so much that it completely changes around their organs and the positions of their hearts. Fate caught up with them, they are tested and tortured and they made it through. The evil villains that you are seeing the soft side of. Those are the most beautiful people. You want to cry and yell at them and hate yourself for loving them, for giving them another chance because what evil they had produced you never want to forgive, but you do and you can't help it.
These people now look solemn, they look so at peace with themselves. They are the residing waves leveled to a calmness after the storm of the century. This is the look I want to capture for myself, in my photographs. I want everything they have seen to be reflected upon in their eyes. Unfortunately for me, I want the short cut to that destination. I want to pass under the troubles to get to the results. Unfortunately for me, it doesn't work that way.

There is so much I want to read and see it overwhelms me. Sometimes I need to sit back and take a break and just watch it and choose what to do next. I am filled with joy that I have so many options, but filled with sorrow that I may never be able to complete them all.

These thing come to me when it rains, and I drive and park and turn off the engine. All my favorite oldies are still playing and the rain is tapping the window and the sudden silent after the hum of the car makes it all fall into place. All the adjectives come rushing back.

I haven't felt this content in such a long time. Him. Us. Everyone we know. It makes me wonder if it's real. I reach out to touch your face and you are really there and I begin to believe it. Please don't take it away from me yet. Or please, ever. It's all turning out so well. It's all boiling, finally.

We sing in the seats my car, we watch foreign films and translate foreign languages. You, however, are not foreign. You are home and I am choosing to reside within you. I am curling up next to you and forming a home on your chest. I'll sleep there when I can't sleep under my covers.

The roads carry me inches closer and inches further, although we don't know because we cannot see, we can only feel it and guess and hope that maybe driving to on the roast means I'm closer to where you are sleeping. The sun is setting and my mind is opening and I hope yours is too.

I know yours is too.