let stones and gems and letters and words fall around my neck. let shapes hang onto my ears. let writing dot my skin. let rings strangle my fingers, bracelets dance around my wrists.
let item all tell a story. the story of my life. the places i’ve been, the people i’ve met, the lessons i’ve learned.
i’m dying to travel and make a difference, to give my life some meaning. to push myself in a direction of satisfaction and reward and wholesomeness. of fulfilment. of success. reaching that point where i look back and think, wow, i really made it this time. a moment i’ll write about and think about and feel more for than any other moment before.
there’s only a handful of those, for me, now.
it’s raining outside. heavily. and i’m sitting here unhappily. thinking about all the things i need to do, all the things waiting for me, all the things i keep only thinking about. there aren’t enough hours in the day, days in the week, pieces of my heart or spaces in my mind. thinking hurts too much.
rolling on forever.
rain. unrelenting. like my thoughts. it really is time. those moments are passing me by. so fast.