You can either grap hold and be taken for a ride, or you can lead a life of mediocrity.
There is nothing more wholly terrifying then thinking about leading a life of mediocrity. It terrifies me to write the words mediocrity, because I(more) know that there are so many mediocre people out there, in the world. Living lives they hate.
Turn off your fucking computer, and go learn how to play racquetball or go read Ernest Hemingway or go listen to Oceans by John Butler. If you've done those three things, great. Then you know where you need to go. Everyone else, start there. Thank me later.
Do these three things because life fucking fades fast and before you know it you will be middle aged sitting in a cubicle wearing your navy blue tie for the second time that week thinking about all the emails you have to answer and the only thing will be getting you through the day is thinking about the bland meatloaf your wife that you married too early is going to make you when you go home to your decently sized but unimaginative house.
Do these three things because life is fucking fleeting.
And please, if you remember nothing else from this quickly written post of passion, remember this:
My stomach growls and beckons me, the hunger of a growing child screams inside an enfeebled adult husk. I lazily open my eyes, and reluctantly force myself awake and roll out bed like a burlap sack of potatoes. Dragging my feet around as if my bed sheets were shackling(more) me to my bed, I push forward to the kitchen and begin my nightly hunt for food. I push aside everything inside the refrigerator and grunt in disgust as I find nothing wholesome except bratwurst leftover from my roommates, which have become host to a colony of hairy mold. "Don't eat anything without asking first." , I mutter mockingly under my breath. An impulse made me think about disposing of the old meat, but as I had grown more awake I had decided to just leave it there to prove a point out of spite. Finding no bounty in the fridge, I continue my pursuit to the cabinets where I find an unopened can of Pringles. "This will do." I shamelessly open the container of chips that my roommates had no doubt intended to eat themselves. I rationalize my decision, even though I know it's wrong to steal anyway. Over the course of a few minutes, I fritter away and the container is empty. Gluttonous, I don't even bother to wipe the grease from my face. Once you pop, you just don't stop.(less)
She had walked through this forest a thousand times, and knew its intricacies as well as the back of her wrinkled hand. She knew where these ancient elms -their limbs swaying in the gentle breeze - ended; where the oaks and the Sycamores began. They were waving farewell.
She(more) knew where the serene ponds lay hidden among the sweet smelling sun grass and milky reeds, dark and still like an untold secret. She knew where the badgers had toiled in their sets, and where the rabbits kept their watch. Where the owl hunted the scurrying voles at dusk, where the bees made their golden nectar, and the caves in which the bears coveted it.
She had given herself to him here.
All this she intimately remembered, but a tear slid from her eye as she tried in vain to recall the memories of decades past, of the times she spent here with her lost love. She remembered the seeds of the dandelions caught in his thick red hair as he tumbled with her down the grassy banks of the riverside. Red hair. I will remember his red hair if all else is lost to me. In her it was a flame, flickering against the encroaching darkness. But not extinguished. Not yet. Her face would light up like the sun revealed from clouds when his face formed from the mists of her mind, but then the image frittered away like fallen leaves in an autumnal wind. A brief fleeting glance, then lost again.
What hurt her so, was not so much that she failed to remember him. It was that she did not know if he were just a dream.
Wiping the wet shame from her face, she undressed and walked into the cold water. Its surface rippling as she disappeared beneath. It grew still again.
The Caparbells were of a nobel ancestral line with money and titles abound. From those ancient times they were known to be great and humble warriors and not least of all for their striking beauty. Nowadays it was only beauty that came to mind.
Hedra Caparbell, the last of(more) three of the line, had not been left wanting. She had lustrous waves of golden-brown hair, large, emerald green eyes that seemed to suck the breath from men and full, rose coloured lips which framed a gentle mouth.
Hedra was always studious, receiving compliments and honours from her tutors. Learning of the arts, sciences and politics from teachers and maestros from around the world.
As she blossomed into adulthood her parents collected countless offers of marriage. Which she would fritter away without so much as to read who they were from. Her passion was for life, not for living it under a man.
The day came when her mother and father died, a tragic murder. But the estate was left to her brother, Fedwin. Five years older and just as handsome as she was beautiful, yet the young man was as short tempered as a thunder eel and as vicious and sadistic as he had been as a child.
After months of awaiting his return from the desert, Fedwin arrived to claim his inheritance.
At the feast of his return, Fedwin had sat in complete silence throughout the meal chewing on olives until even the stone was crushed. As he sat, he glared with a hatred, from Hedra to their younger sister, Pepar. Neither of them had ever understood his burning contempt. As he began to speak, he promptly inhaled a stone from an olive and choked to death in front of the already terrified guests.
Luck was forever Hedra's.(less)
Today I learned to love, today I learned to smile. Today I woke up alone, but in someone else's heart. Though space may draw us farther apart, and words attempt to tear across more distance... Our gazes bridge the gap. I will not waste my time, my moments are(more) not to be wasted, in vain. That is for another to do, but never for me and you.(less)
If only we hadn't frittered away all of our time. Before, we had too much of it to pay heed to how valuable it is - now we have too little to think about it. Oh, the irony. How many hours, nay, days, we spent playing video games, and(more) watching pointless TV shows. Does any of it really help us, in the long run? Sure, we got a little bit of pleasure out of it. But at what cost? The cost to NOT actually go and experience this world. The cost to NOT go out and meet new people, and NOT explore the world, NOT travel to new cultures, NOT seek knowledge and countless other things. Sure, we had a little bit of joy, but was it REALLY worth it?(less)