Scribbles of a withering night

I think i’m meant to dream my life away, indefinitely. Nothing I say comes out the way I want it to be said. Sometimes my own presence ruins the serenity of an otherwise perfect moment. Why do I have to live in a single existence, a single dimension of people and experiences.

I dream of having an expansive life. One that doesn’t bind you to anyone or anything. A beautiful moment with a person and on to the next sunset. People are quite endearing sometimes, but anything else that binds you to them is imprisoning. 

People talk about how we yearn to touch other people’s lives, I only wish I can start with getting in touch with my own. This is half a life, half a presence, half the love and freedom. Even at the epitome of a perfect routine, it is seldom fulfilling. And this is why I dream.

I dream because maybe seeing the aurora in Norway can bring you closer to god than praying will ever do. The spirituality of finding peace, not forcing it. The sentiment of being alive in a moment before life drags you to the next. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to miss a moment while i’m living it. Maybe then Thurdays wouldn’t have to be very, very bitter.