"Fairytales do it all for me.
I'll climb aboard, let them carry me out to sea."
Sometimes I look around me and think, why do I have to judge everything? When did I learn to squint my eyes, and distort the inevitable beauty in everyone? I have so much sorrow and weariness that I don't think there's any explanation besides being an old soul. Yet I derive the most primal, pervasive delight from the simplest things: laying on a bed with sunlight folding warmly over me, kissing my prince charming (the black cat), and driving with the windows down. My rational self is constantly at odds with the romantic within, and in all honesty I really think I'm just a tiny little bottle full of contradictions.
Hold me up to the window; perhaps I will catch the light and throw out rainbows and the full range of the visible light spectrum on your handsome, dimpled cheeks. If only, if only, I could be that light and fold myself over and all around you like a sunny star.
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