SHIMMER

Verb: a faint or veiled gleam or shining, a glimmer.


Sometimes the things you think are pretty and sparkly are sharp and bitter things, and often we don't see that these things have the ability to hurt us. We tend to let ourselves stray from our usual selves when the prospect of somthing nice and shiny appears. Funny that.

But the cotton candy is so sickly sweet, and we'll more often than not buy it. It's like predestination, fate, that we cannot turn away from the things we know make us terminally ill. And not ill in the sense that you'll die physically, rather, the sense that your whole world will experience an earthquake, should they choose to leave it. It's hardly fair, but as they say: life's not fair.

Nor does it have to be.

The good will usually outweigh the bad, where bad occasionally crops up. The good is fantastic, actually. The good is how you felt today (since you're adding to the post from yesterday). It's the pull of your hair, and the mark on your cheek, and the gasping of your throat as the love tries to fight it's way out, while you choke on the words that'll give you away. Bad is the worry that you've done something to annoy them, the fear that they might suddenly stop wanting you anymore. Your company, your love.

They virtually own you, but is ownership if you voluntarily give yourself to them? They say it'll be different soon, sometime. Be better. More time, more loving, more sun, more space. Maybe it will be, but there will be that question remaining - what are we? It seems futile, this benchmark to be reached before anything is official. You've seen though, how fast things go by, how fast 8 months have passed, and how it will continue to pass. It's nothing really, no time. But when they're gone, you'll know it like a bullet wound in your side. You'll clutch at the hole, hoping that it'll close, yet knowing that it won't heal until they're back again. You wish you could go with them.