The desire to step outside the boundaries, to venture out of the familiar and known, and to tantalize the fine yet primitive line distinguishing between my self and my identity. There is an incorruptible impulse to be a part of something much larger than myself, to cheat oblivion, and to waltz with the provocative paradigm of living. Existing is a heartless existence, through which it forces you with the idea that going day to day with mundane and repetitive occurrences is a formidable pattern that is worthy of imitation. It is a flirtatious thought that does not ceases to entice you with a lugubrious lifestyle, one that smiles with promise, yet dances with infidelity regarding its possibilities. You can view yourself through a glass mirror, reflecting the thoughts and actions previous, doomed to be on the repeat button, and skipping over the best part of the song. The simple yet visceral motive to be is one that strikes the cord of every individual that breathes, that has blood flowing through his veins, and has a heart that beats.
Day after day, month after month, year after year. Time is nothing but a force that inherently reflects our nature, the characteristics that express our inmost being. Time is also the looming presence that reminds you of wishes unfilled, potential gone to waste, desires unmet, and goals withered to nothing but a mere vacuum, representing the black hole of life. It is a vivid recollection the dreams you painted in your youth that has collected to dust during the times of adulthood and responsibilities. It expresses the tangible but void impulse to ignite the passion that has been lost, the fire that has gone out, and the drive that was once present. Time is untouchable, yet its of quality of permeability is unparalleled.
What causes an individual to stop and smell the flowers, to revel in the beauty of memories, and to smile? When the conscious caution that there is no garden to enjoy the lovely and pixelated aromas of the tulips, roses, and gardenias, the perfume lingeringly in the air; its presence lightly kissing the sense. When the alarming reality that few memories exist where they play on an endless loop, experiencing every thought, every feeling, every moment, and every action as vividly as it occurred. The dismal actuality that smiling is an action that connects the emotions with the mouth, indicating a joyful moment or occasion. Smiling is also an instinct; it is done unconsciously. Such a time is so rare that recalling it akin to remembering moments as an infant. It is a painful reminder that much time has elapsed, but little living has been done.
Living is essential to the human soul. It nourishes the core of human essence. Living is essential to an individual's existence. Living is necessary. It is absolutely necessary.
