It's not a rare occurrence, at this point. I like to say that I'm easily excitable, and forgo other phrases that are a bit less endearing, to say the least.
I find myself constantly amazed with the things I see and the people I meet. I find it nearly impossible to catch a minute of sleep, now that my thoughts never cease and I can't stop picturing the wonders. The wonders I meet each and every day.587Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUwNt5jBX4j
I have trouble separating the ordinary from the exceptional. I have trouble seeing why there must be a differentiation between the two in the first place. I think the ordinary is often the most beautiful, the most serene, the most divine. What I just cant seem to understand is why people seem to think of ordinary as such a pejorative.
It certainly has never been anything but astounding to me. And, maybe I'm odd. Maybe I'm obsessive compulsive, and manic, and over-excitable. Maybe I have trouble controlling my reactions. But, just maybe, It's because I can see beauty in anything. 587Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgtcRkNMhKz
And when I do, when I do see something truly beautiful, I can't breathe; I exhale.
It steals my breathe from my lungs, dragging it out of me in forceful gusts; all lightheaded awe and dizzy disbelief. I teeter, my world expanding. Every day I experience. Every day I appreciate. Every day I learn. And, every day, I live.
Oh, do I live.
Because I can't help to watch as people pass by the subway in the morning as all tired eyes for habitual movements-automatons. Staggering is the way they make so much haste that they cannot see the wonder of the stillness. They do not see what I see. 587Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkKR1c8FrFg
I see the breeze, following the subway, the powerful screech of the metal brakes that never fail. I see flickering lights that cast beautiful shadows and I see the lights flashing on the raised cheekbones of a laughing child. I see clean, shining windows contrast the peeling paint on the walls. I hear the metallic click of business shoes upon dirty cement.
I live.
And all the while, every time, the air seems to evacuate my chest as if I were a black hole- as if I were a galactic vacuum; I exhale.
And it takes me some time to breathe in.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
