Who Was Thats

    She was my Dean Moriarity, a spirit that cannot be encapsulated in words; free and innocent beyond comprehension, a perfection of purity, exuding an aura that entangled myself in the very depth of her soul. I could not name the exact effect, it was something unknown to me, a hint of nostalgia and novelty that I had not previously encountered, yet seemed so familiar. It was impossible to contain within myself the desire to live, I mean really live, as I never had before. I had always known this pre-fab industrialized society slowly and insidiously seeped into and usurped the very essence of life: predictability and comfort became the exalted status we all craved so dearly, even if we didn’t notice. But that instant I had let go of that expectation, and became liberated, to a certain extent, of any notion pertaining to the coveted future.  I wasn’t sure how far I would depart to the fringe, but alas it was certain I would be propelled into the everlasting now with no direction in mind. Toying with and romanticizing the notion of exploring the instant without expectation, travel with no desire to reach any destination, an experience beyond what school, work, or contemporary society could offer. It surely was not this one contact that created what was to become, but nonetheless it helped me remember…more than anything. The English vocabulary does not have a word for what she was, and is. Of course perfection is imperfect, and it has been said that in order to be complete one must be incomplete, but that is how I truly felt. An impossible label and much to live up to, however, the gratitude I felt, love, and compassion, made her seem infallible. For what I had been searching for my entire life was presented to me in human form as a living example of what I had not, and needed to, develop. There was no physical attraction, it was entirely experiential, as she passed by my being began to vibrate and gravitate towards her as I remained stationary and observed. It was as if within myself there was an unsolidified mass of powdered iron and her entire body was a neodymium magnet charged to the extreme drawing me ever further towards the realization of what had to be experienced. It is common to give preference to vain vanity, I could describe her perfect lips silhouetted against the wall as she turned away slightly to laugh, her hair falling, covering her face, as it directed the eyes towards her heavenly figure as they traced each ringlet and continued further down. True beauty radiates from within and at times manifests externally; aforementioned, despite the natural physical beauty that seemed to flow from a fountain within that had never known taint, I could sincerely care less, for just being in her presence presented me with divine inspirations, aspirations, which were too beautiful for words, too beautiful for symbolic representation, more whole than the sun, the entire cosmos. I didn’t want a relationship, I just wanted to learn from her, and hoped that by osmosis I would gradually beget the inevitable realizations I had sought out. Of course, I soon realized that this was something that can’t be given or shown, acquired as a gift…or stolen. I had to go out into the world, and more importantly the world within my being, to discover and develop these latent potentialities, planting the seeds which will surely bear fruit.

zousu zousu
18-21, M
Feb 15, 2010