Monday, June 9, 2014 4:32 p.m.

Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time. 

I wish I knew what to say, I feel like I should maybe say something profound at this point.  I wish I had something glorious to write about and subsequently ponder upon, however my thoughts remain scarred and scattered, like the billions of stars in the blue sea of the night. 

Finally things are occurring in a favorable manner, things are happening in such a way that gives me hope for the future.  Even so, I find myself longing for the in-between moments; longing for the sadness and the bittersweet.  Because the things that make us vulnerable make us beautiful. 

I spent last evening at the beach and although I was dancing and twirling among the waves in the light of the moon (and loving very much to be living in that moment), a part of me wanted the ocean to devour me alive.  And it is moments like that one in which I am thinking of death in the light of living that scares me.   Maybe it doesn’t scare me so much as it makes me impatient, but either way the feeling leaves me with a sense of incomplete, almost like I’m an unfinished work of art.   A work in progress; maybe I’ll always feel like a work in progress.  Maybe that’s what it is to be human.  Maybe being human is praying that one’s life is arranged intricately as a complicated domino pattern, and it will be beautiful when it finally falls.  
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