December 3, 2011

I want...

                I want to live in a castle perched on a hill by the ocean. This castle wouldn’t need to be extravagant. It could be as big as a double wide trailer for all I care. I just want to be able to say that I live somewhere everyone would consider beautiful. I don’t’ want it so that others will stare. I just would enjoy being able to help the world enjoy the beauty of something hearty and natural, forged as if it were part of the land itself. I want to hear the sea breeze softly whistling past me, swirling my skirt into a flurry of frenzy. I want to have a Marilyn Monroe moment; for to catch myself in the swirl of yards of something warm would be the finest feeling. I want to reach down and touch the ground, and not only feel soil, but feel soul and life. I want to understand that the soil is the basis for the trees, which lend themselves for our very existence, and of course, our observance.
                I yearn for the pure beauty of the shore around me, just so far away as so you would have to work to touch it, so that you have to walk a block or four to breathe in the ocean mist freely and to feel the sand squishing in between your toes. It would be worth all the walking to me. After all, if there was no work to achieve beauty, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate it as we should. Sometime I’d like to reenact one of those music videos, you know, the ones where a woman wears a long, flowing white dress, and simply relaxes and watches the sunset as the colors mellow together in a beautiful symphony. I’d enjoy lying back to back with the warm sand curving to me, while the sweet echo of some light music in another language drifted downward just for me.
                It would seem like a fairytale to me. The feeling of being enveloped by such beauty must be overwhelming. For one day, I would like to be overwhelmed. I’d like to confuse my senses. My brain wouldn’t know whether to concentrate on the light fragrance of the flowers surrounding the coast or the strong crash of waves as they hit the rocks down the coast. I’d like to confuse my skin into thinking someone beautiful is holding me while it’s just the sand. That way, everything stays light, and sweet, and innocent. That way this wish will stay pure and young and lavish in such a frivolous way that no one could confuse it with that of an adult. An adult would have to worry about the rent in such a historic site, and ponder how many more germs there really are floating around in the humid atmosphere above them. If I just remove the idea of getting older, then maybe it will never happen. But then again, out of sight, out of mind, is one of the worst philosophies anyone has ever thought of. I just wish I could go back to when fickle subjects didn’t matter and all I cared about was searching for some truth in this mess we all like to call life. Maybe if I could be by myself, I could grow up the way everyone suggests.

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