This Much

The other night, coming back home from Rachel’s party, I was sitting in the shotgun seat of Freddie’s car (one of my favourite places). The cassette player was singing for us but outside everything was night-time quiet; the shadows of a Jersey woods blurring past us. We were going slightly downhill and several meters in front of us was a lonely lamppost in the dip of the road where it evened out from the downwards gradient, shining a single spotlight on the tarmac and causing the rest of the road beyond it to disappear completely. Suddenly, as if someone had sparked a fire inside me, I felt incredibly happy. It was the strangest sensation, simply because I couldn’t really attribute it to anything specific. The music, the moment, the silence, the night, the light, the darkness, the company...
I really wish I could bottle that feeling and- not re-use it- but show it to other people. Give a little peace to someone and say; this is why you have to try and be happy. Because it feels this good.

Language is just so useless sometimes. I find myself desperate to make people understand something and finding myself unable. How do you convince someone of doing something without giving them a logical, sure answer? How can I assure people that trying is worth it, that oh my God it feels so good to be free. Some people say this freedom is just an illusion, but it’s not. It’s not because it’s inside me, and there is nothing I can be more sure of that that. How can I convince you to do something as simple as living? As complex?

I wish I could hit people in the head and not only make them understand but make them feel that we only get one chance at this, feel it so much that they could break away from all those damn puppet strings, that we are free, and that we should live...well, to the max!
Come on people,

LOOK ALIVE!

Ornithophobia