numbvox
I've been searching everywhere for the most elusive of all things: where to start. It's funny, isn't it? How much we can rely on that single piece of information to get anywhere. At least, I do. I wish I could be more "go with the flow," you know? But it's just not in my nature. I need a plan, a pathway. I need to know I'm going the right way. So that's why I'm here - where do you recommend I start?
There's always a reason to go to war. One of them insulted our pride or one of them threatened our neighbor or one of them is charging to much for exports or whatever. We'll never run out of ways to justify conflict. So why don't we start looking at reasons to justify peace instead? We certainly can't do any worse.
"I'll get there someday", I told myself. The setting sun on the horizon stretched out before me, bathing the treeline below my mountain-side vantage in a blanket of gold. I walked forward and opened the wide glass doors from the bedroom to the picturesque balcony outside and stepped out for a moment to take in the whole scene. Instinctively I reached my hand out towards the sun, wanting to hold it in place to keep that moment alive just a while longer.
"Someday," I continued to myself, "Someday *I'll* be the one with the beautiful house in the mountains getting robbed." I then turned back inside and continued with my burglary.
It's hard being a grownup. Every day I wake up and have to remind myself that I'm in my own bed, in my own house, and have to get ready to go to my own real adult job. It's weird. Will I ever stop feeling like a juvenile and start feeling like an adult? I don't think I'm likely to get the answer to that anytime soon; maybe not ever. Maybe we're all just wandering around in adult disguises wondering when we're finally gonna feel like we're not just kids playing pretend.
The cake was staring at me. It probably thought I was staring at it too, but I could tell it liked the attention. Strutting its sexy chocolate ribbons and sultry white frosting flowers. What a slutty little thing. "No," I tell myself, "I can do better." I know that for a fact; I'm stronger enough to resist the pull of this enticing treat. I can win this one. I can defeat temptation.
...Tomorrow. I can defeat temptation tomorrow.
Today, I'm going to let the cake win.
He sat at his desk, wondering when lunch was. This stupid day couldn't get worse, could it? First he got a flat tire on the way in, then the boss yelled at him for causing a backup in the workload from last week, and then when he opened his corporate email he was bombarded with a deluge of urgent emails waiting for his response. But at least he had the lunch coming: seared duck on infused grit-cake with a foie gras sauce that he had ordered to be delivered at 1:00 from the local French fusion place down the street. At least he had this one bright spot on this darkest of days to look forward to. At least, that is, if the damn clock would hurry the hell up and move forward. He looked at his watch again, 10:52. It is going to be a long day.
I still get nervous when I see her smile. It's incredible; like you'd never believe. Her whole face lights up. Her cheeks warm with soft pink, her nose crinkles, and those incredible magical dimples expose themselves. She's never been able to fake a smile, either. You know what you're getting with her. When she smiles, you always know it's the real deal. And nothing feels more incredible. I don't think I'll ever get over it.
It was a great day. Jonny came home and was smiling for the first time in months. The appointment had gone well. This new doctor is a miracle worker, I could tell already. I rubbed Jonny's hair lovingly and asked what caused such a breakthrough and made him smile again. He replied, "Dr. Franklin told me it's not always all my fault. He said it's usually your fault, mom."
Dr. Franklin is an asshole.
There are a lot of birds in the world. Some blue, some black, some red, and some white. Small ones, big ones, tall ones, round ones. The world is full of so many birds. That's what it's like - the world. Full of so much more than we can even imagine. So many look to the stars (and there is so much out there as well), but forget to turn their heads and look at the world around them. Every piece of our planet is so much more complex and fascinating than we could ever imagine. Even the birds.
I hate the way he looks at me. Those dark hateful eyes - like daggers staring into my soul. I still feel guilty over hurting him. I remember that night; staring into the sky together, our backs against the woven blanket and the stars painted above us. It was beautiful. Beautiful, until I asked him if he had farted.
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