I love life. And that’s what kills me.

[flowersofthesoul]

When I would walk my dog, I would pause and take in the scenery. The orange-purple hues of the descending sun. The lusciousness of the grass. Sounds of children playing nearby. How cute my little boy looks frolicking in the grass, happy to be off leash for even a moment.

It makes it hurt more, knowing I was never built for this world. I was never meant to enjoy what life could give me. I love life—so why does it wring me out so horribly?

Sometimes my heart overflows with love. It swells with so much love it feels like it could explode at any moment.

I think about the life I want. How I would like a studio apartment in the big city, with a kitty cat and a space for my creative inclinations. I would come home from a nine to five, and the only thing I would have to worry about are the dishes I have to put in the wash. But with the way this world works, it will take too long to get there. I begin to wonder if the wait will be even worth it.

Imagine how free I would be as a spectre. I could wander around the streets of the city, and I could poke in and see how my sister is doing. I could wander into jazz bars, and sing along to the vocalists without worrying about how others might perceive my voice. I know that most likely, dying won't turn me into a ghost; but it's fun to imagine.

 

[gottacheckout]

Life is a journey, I don't think it was meant to be a destination. There is a lot of love in your words, that is a really good quality. This place is full of people that don't think they were meant for this life, I'm one of them. However, I try hard to hang onto the good and shake off the not so good.

One thing I've learned is that things I really want seem to take an unbearably long time to achieve. But it's that time and work that makes those things even more special.

Being a ghost sounds like fun!