I remember a time where the weekend was endless. Sundays dragged on to eternity but every second (however bored out of your mind you were) was enjoyed because in the morning you couldn't sleep in, you couldn't lounge around and watch the nothingness on tv and you certainly couldn't just be. But even with the dread that I used to have for going back to school (i almost always had a case of the mundays) times were happier. Happiness wasn't abstract as it currently is; it was found in tag at recess, playstation at a friend's house or hockey on a friday. When exactly did thorough happiness became so much harder? Some of my psychology-enabled friends would refer you to a Swiss named Piaget and tell me that some time after I turned 12 I start to develop the ability to think abstractly.
It seems to me that it just comes in moments only because those moments distract you from your own mind. I have worries, fears and want things that I shouldn't want so bad. Insecurities, pride, jealousy, nobility, kindness and love do not play well with each other. They're the Jets and Sharks (Capulets and Montagues) dueling it out in my head (lame, unclear reference i know).
I guess I've got some mental domains to develop. As much of a realist I like to think I am, maybe i could stand to be a little more pragmatic emotionally.
On the dry and dusty road
The nights we spend apart alone
I need to get back home to cool cool rain
I can't sleep and I lay and I think
The night is hot and black as ink
Oh God, I need a drink of cool cool rain
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1 comment:
I found that Romeo and Juliet reference to be very witty!
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