But that is what life is, corect?

A correlation of beauty and irony, perhaps the dependent equation upon which we live on.

Without the bad, the good does not taste as sweet yes?

Home alone, Italian music plays along with the sweet smell of traditional romanian dessert. 

Humming along to the language that surpasses any combination of words or phrases, I smile, perhaps ironically, perhaps happily.

Two days ago, I found myself at the bottom of all hope.

Staring into the emptiness of faces and places, I did not feel the need to breathe much of the polluted air in any way, shape, or form.

Today I have drawn, I have cooked, I have hummed, and I have danced.

Indeed it is a lonely life for many reasons, but my utter belief in higher purpose keeps me going.

There is meaning.

There is reason.

Somewhere in this money driven world, there are people like me, like my friends, who dream.

Who dream of a better world, a more caring, more loving, more ambitious world.

Once believing I am alone in the cause, I realize as each day passes, that the youth of today is not forever lost.

There still is a chance, we are not ignorant, our opportunities just overwhelm us.

So many choices, so many possibilities, so many thoughts and chances.

A young mind can pass by so many beautiful opportunities and not even realize it.

We are given everything, from the beginning.

No longer do we need to fight for our passions.

This is where it is ruined.

This where we must work, remedy, and improve.

We must find ourselves before we find life, and purpose.

Perhaps I am a pessimist, perhaps I am naive, perhaps I am simply a hopeless romantic, but in all these thoughts and fears, I find myself happy.

There is a possibility that I am only happy when I forever wander.

I am always thinking, asking questions, and living further and further over the edge.

Just maybe this is my purpose.

To find, understand, and change.

And although I do have days in which the asking subsides my love for life, I do also have days such
as these.

A majestic contrast of good and bad.

An interest, a thought, a life.

Present, Past, Future.

Today was a good day.

Indeed, a revelation bewilders me.

Perhaps I truly will always be the weird geeky girl.

I digress and continue to hum along to “Rasputin”.

If they put 80′s music on at a party, I will be the one dancing.

If you say you are doing something, and I disagree, I will most likely be very direct and tell you:
You are a complete idiot.

I won’t always agree with certain aspects of the american lifestyle and mentality.

In group projects, I will almost always just do the whole project to satisfy my pet peeve of selfish perfection.

I most likely won’t let you wash the dishes, because I will want them to be done by me.

I might not always dress according to the “what is cool” manual.

I will always prefer intriguing people instead of beautiful people.

When it comes to taste, in music, movies, and everything, I will always have an opinion.

When it comes to your ideas, thoughts, and everything, I always be curious to hear your perspective.

I might like cheesy glasses, and I certainly won’t always do as I am told.

But one thing is quite certain, and has come to me right this moment, I do realize, that
right now, in these days, months, years, I truly am finding myself.

I am becoming a person, with thoughts, and opinions, with style, and with flaws.

And it further alludes me that if a year ago, I knew who I was, what will I think in 5 years? Or 10? Will I be the same? Or will I constantly change my perspective?

These questions are killing me.

Damn you, person who invented the human mind and all of its anomalies.

Damn you while I walk away singing “ra-ra-rasputin, russia’s greatest love machineeee”

I digress.

Thoughts, feelings, fears.

She misses his mouth,eyes,face.

Is love blind?

Perhaps.

Staring out the window, she hopes he will come up behind her, hold her, kiss her soft skin.

That does not happen.

What is he doing now?

Is he thinking of her?

Is he touching another?

Italian love songs in the background, tender sighs, and dreadful whys.

Depicted nonsense, and makeshift love signs.

Unheard to the deaf, and seen by the mute.

Careful selection, and untold deception.

Ti amo?

Je t’aime?

Te quiero?

Words.

Only words.

The mouth can give thousands of words, but only one true feeling.

To tell a story, to give an image, a gift, a refused exhale, you wonder through these fields as if unfound.

Come back to me my love.

Come back.

Empty without you, caress, tender, scream.

Art, Fate, Life.

You are the paint to my canvas, the water to my river, the leaf to my branch.

Soul?

Body?

Infinite.

Accept this, accept us.

Hold your head up high, you are the pride of my beating heart, the reason for my strive, the understanding of my being.

In open arms, accept this.

Accept us.

As if letting go of each unhappy event occured that day, she runs.

She has found it.

The one thing that can actually give her peace.

Alone in silence, she passed each house, wondering what those people might be doing, if they are happy, or sad, or maybe even content.

The end of the street approaches, her ankles shake, this is the only pain worth it.

A release of all tension through her bones, sweating all stress through tiny drops of eliminated water.

At the corner of the street, she stops, to possibly catch her breath, or perhaps admire the night sky.

A cloud smeared over the sky, as if strokes from a painter, the stars arranged in no particular order, but still indescribably beautiful.

Feeling as if she is watching through windows of the mind, she pauses, takes a deep breath, and realizes how truly amazing this world is.

Forget bills, forget the new car you want next year, forget that you need a new couch, forget.

Remind yourself of what beauty you can expierence by just opening your eyes.

Truly opening them.

She took a seat on a rock, cars passed, but time seemed to stop, tears filled her eyes, overwhelmed by what she had missing all along.

Freedom.

Freedom of the soul, the freedom to let go of all problems, all fears, and just live.

Just feel the air enter you, the blood flow, the heart beat.

If only this moment would last forever, she did not want to get up from there, ever.

For she knew she would return to the life everyone leads, ever stressed to accomplish and make it.

Never to realize how time passes and never to really stop to look at the world around you.

She returns leaving the spot where she had been reborn, a simple corner on the street.

The wind ran through her hair is if desiring to stop her.

Her lips dryed by the physical exhaustion, but her soul kept going.

The night had changed her, and entering the house she felt a feeling of hope she hadnt felt in a long time.

Although lost, she can still hope.

Just hope.