I dismissed the thoughts from my head but now they sit heavily upon my heart. In moments when wind pushes my hair into my face and I brush it to the side or tuck it behind my ear only to feel a few rebellious strands escape and tickle my cheeks and my lips, I realize I'm not the one in control. I've never been the one in control. I merely live a life where I dance from one situation to the next with my fingers crossed and my eyes closed tight so I can't see what's coming; but these lips of mine always whisper little wishes and these fingers of mine always stay firmly crossed.
Chapped lips. Maybe because the days are getting colder and shorter with each sunset, but I've also been licking my lips a lot too. I think it's a nervous habit and life makes me nervous. Chapped lips hurt and when something hurts you think about it. Like when your heart hurts or when your head hurts. But what's silly about hurting lips is the reality that thinking about my lips makes me remember your lips.
My hands are cold but I like the way it feels; I am very much alive and I am very capable of feeling many different things. And so I slowly open and close my fist, clenching and unclenching to experience the tingling sensation that burns inside the skin. It's odd how hands can feel almost warm when they're nothing close to being warm. Maybe they're just trying to tell us that too much of one thing can result in something becoming a new and entirely different something. Maybe that's why love sometimes turns to hate and hate sometimes turns to love. But then again, maybe not. We all pretend we know why things are the way they are but in all reality all of us know just one thing: nothing.
We all know absolutely nothing.
And in my experience, sometimes nothing
can turn into everything.
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