This life is screaming now or never and freedom and experience,*la vie rapide, while the soul is crying for that depth that the heart are trying to escape from. We are looking for ourselves, finding, trying, keep searching. Afraid to commit to anything or anyone, afraid of giving something up. It’s so ironic, that we are still looking for the same thing. That thing that makes it all complete, but looking for it inside of us, instead of trying to find it in another person. So where does that leave us children of the city, where the only constant is change?
To be honest, I have no idea. I am just thinking about love, as usual, you know me. Life and Love. Life or love? Love after life or life after love? How can two letters make such an incompatible difference? Living for love might be an option for some people and the rest of us…..maybe we are striving for independence in it’s purest form, or we are all just becoming pussies.
Well, at least one thing is for sure. Forever is painful. But at least it’s forever.
My new forever in the making.
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