Randomly Relevant

randomlyrelevantwritten:

Everything around us is fluid. While we can maintain a rigidity in things like our values, (and even those are reassessed over time) if one does not adapt and become fluid as well, we can find ourselves eroded away to nothing. Personal growth is a thing that must happen, or we essentially die.

randomlyrelevantwritten:

randomlyrelevant:

A carnal need; an animalistic urgency.  For you.

The heat of your breath on my neck, the feel of your skin under my touch; burning; searing.

Your kisses incinerate to my very being.  I am yours, utterly, in this moment; only this moment.  It is all we need.

All I need.

Just this once… perhaps more; perhaps not.

Time will tell.

But for now, I will give in to the flames that only you can ignite in me; all consuming…  eventually burning out…  only to be reborn from the ashes.

randomlyrelevantwritten:

You stay safe,

holed up in your cocoon.  Keep out the things that put you at risk.

Don’t let people get too close.  Avoid the possibility of being lied to.

Being hurt, even heartbroken.  

And keep out the real joy, laughter, and love, while you are at it.  

Watch out for chance.  

You keep on being your own best friend.  And your own worst enemy.

If that is what makes you truly happy…  

As for me?  I’ll take the risk.  

I’ve fallen on my face before- more than once.  But I’ll chance it again.

Because even though it’s scary as hell…  I kinda liked it.

randomlyrelevantwritten:

randomlyrelevant:

The atmosphere coagulated, heavy with moisture.

Lightning pierces the night sky, appearing as a flash of spider-like veins along the black-grey span of the heavens; the clouds concealing the moon and stars with their dark caress.

The peal of thunder breaks the hush of the desert at twilight, distinct and deafening.

Clouds appear, heavily burdened with precipitation and soon they unleash their fury onto the earth, hammering the arid ground with leaden aqueous beads, pelting mercilessly any creature caught in the sudden onslaught. It is as if Mother Nature has been withholding her precious gift, biding her time. She waits until the dust of the earth and the relentless heat of the sun have railed against the desert dwellers for months on end, driving them to despair and madness. And, just as we reach the brink, teetering on the edge of the precipice of sanity, just a moment before we abandon ourselves to our thirst, she relents, showering us with rain, blessed rain, gently at first, then gradually her tears increase in urgency and soon she is releasing a violence upon us as if to scold us for our insolence at daring to believe that for one moment we are absent from her thoughts- an impossibility, as we are an integral part of her.

We pay for this transgression, dearly. The crackled earth drinks greedily, at first, consuming every droplet as if it would be the very last. Too soon, it has had it’s fill, being unused to such an outpouring, and refuses any more, but still it comes, drenching, and the ground can hold no more. The water swells, furious. We have waited so long; now, it is here, and we can only tolerate a very small taste, lest we drown.

The same element we rely on for life and sustenance is now a force to be reckoned with. The same substance that brings hibiscus and jasmine to life, exploding in velvety reds and vibrant, buttery yellows, with lovely heady fragrances, has in moments reduced our roads to rubble, our homes to dust, and our fields to ruin, leaving us wailing for mercy.

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The humidity hangs so heavy in the air. It permeates my very being. It clings to my body, almost becoming a second skin.

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I could still see the silhouette of the mountains, black against the deep indigo of the evening sky.  A flicker of light would periodically illuminate the clouds that slung low across the horizon, welcoming the dark embrace of night.

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You could feel the expectation of the rain. You could visualize it. It is a heavily pregnant woman, her breasts swelling with milk, and her abdomen taunt, stretched beyond what you think is capable, seeming to be near bursting from the pressure that is building up within, as if trying to force it’s own delivery.

randomlyrelevantwritten:

The sound of the rain mingled with my loneliness…

is perfection.

randomlyrelevantwritten:

seeking, searching, scouring about for a clue,

a hint, an allusion as to how to proceed, 

discovering an answer, only to root out more questions, 

leaving you more befuddled than ever.

Justifying, correcting, beginning again,

but finding yourself just as fucked up as you were at the start.

Smile.  You must be lost, like me.

randomlyrelevantwritten:

Aptly named Randomly Relavent Written. 

http://randomlyrelevantwritten.tumblr.com/

randomlyrelevantwritten:

Aptly named Randomly Relavent Written. 

http://randomlyrelevantwritten.tumblr.com/

randomlyrelevantwritten:

Aptly named Randomly Relavent Written. 

http://randomlyrelevantwritten.tumblr.com/

I’ve cried every day since my kids left to go back home.  That is a hurt that never dulls.  I can’t stop.  It comes in bursts.  At work, or at home, or driving around.  I can’t stop.  I can’t stop.  I need them back here, near me.  Close.

I also feel like the guy that runs the pizza shop, or the people that work at the hat shop up the street from me care more about me and my well being than the person I’m dating does.  They barely know me.

It sucks.   I am very grateful for what I *do* have here…  but why does it feel like it isn’t enough?  

Why can’t I be loved with the same depth of feeling that I care for him?  Is this as good as it gets?  Isn’t there more than just … barely anything?  Why am I fighting to spark something that maybe is just incapable of igniting?  I’m tired.  So tired.

One day he will find the person that makes him want to be the best that he can be.  

It’s not me.

is perfection.

Unpretentious.  He stated it simply, as a matter of fact, yet with that little smile on his face, as if he was amused already at what my reaction would be.  Which was, at first, a flat lesson.  ”You should not say things you that don’t mean.” …And I left it at that. 

However, the authenticity in his eyes, that was unexpected.  His manner came across humbly, almost child-like, as if he was a little kid presenting someone he idolized with a gift, and he feels that it isn’t much, or that it isn’t worthy, but he so wants to know that you accept it, and maybe even like it.  …And I cherished it… quietly.  

“I love you.”

…And I am inclined to believe it.