As far as I'm concerned, it might as well be a lazy summer day. Mellow beach music is flooding the air, and my hair is a curled mass fixed on top of my head. I'm attempting to gather my thoughts about the upcoming night, and I'm not getting anywhere. I wonder if it all be a haze, a stint in memory that's left up to my imagination to fill the following day.
Aryan's 5th birthday is tomorrow. The age of the intelligent rugrat, as I'd like to call it. He's almost too eloquent for his age, like me. Except his shyness takes so much of it away from him that it makes my heart melt when other's think he clearly isn't as smart as he is. He'll grow to do big and grand things, that little brat.
Is it right of me to hold on to the good so much that I fear the unforeseen yet inevitable bad lying in the future? I don't ever want to think things will last forever, because they rarely do.
That's a dismal thought.
The girl walks on a tight rope while teaching herself to balance with what she has and what she gets. It's only then she realizes the rope is her dear life, and the things she gets slowly are replaced and become the things she has.
"Stuck between channels my thoughts all quit.
I thought about them too much, allowed them to touchThe feelings that rained down on the plains all dried and cracked,
Waiting for things that never came."
