Thoughts of late.

We all, each of us, lack something. I'm not sure what it is for each person, but I can pretty much guarantee that it is there without a doubt. Me? I lack a lot of things. I lack optimism, I lack a true understanding of faith. I lack the ability to let myself be happy completely and without reservation. Each day rolls by and I want nothing more than to let it pass. Wash over me without so much as a second thought or whim to change it.

I strive to perfect these emotions, contain them in amber bottles with clearly defined black and white labels. Put them up on a shelf where they can be seen by all – perfect. Perfect love, perfect hate, the epitome of rage, jealousy, lust, frustration, joy. Each color coded sticker matching the key hanging from the rafter above. Yet, I fear there are no such things as perfect emotions. Wrapped up in all that we wish to be, do we miss who we really are? There's a quote by John Lennon which says, life is what happens while you're busy making other plans. Is this true of everything we see and do and taste and smell? A world in front of a world masked my our own smoke and mirror contraptions we put in place to keep us safe from really experiencing life. We have these moments, that feel real. I know that in these moments there is a sense of clarity, but they often are the most surreal.

Sitting in a living room, a guitar playing. The smell of weed and beer fills the air. The back door is open to the night. The clear air wafts in and strokes my skin. These are the moments I miss. This is when I felt alive. The three of us, talking into the wee hours of the morning about everything we had and wanted and dreamed and felt. I had to lie and say I had fallen asleep watching a movie. Truth is I was living, clear.

A trip to the beach with mostly all strangers. The sun, the sand. Two guitars, a fire. Someone taking pictures of everything and anything. Free style rap and cuddling with puppies in the sand. Feeling like you're in a movie – because life simply isn't that great. Things like this don't really happen.

A cold winter night. A dare of sorts. The rush of adrenaline as my heart fights to stay beating. The warm, stuffy air of a sauna. Confessions of an earnest heart. I will remember always this night where I did something I would never do. I stepped outside of myself and simply lived. I threw all caution, all concern, all thoughts of how to behave away.

These are the moments I remember, the ones that – regardless of where and who I am, where and who those around me are or were – I hold dear.

It is these moments and scarcely more that I felt I lacked nothing. There was no depression ever longing in my innermost core. There was no insecurity of how I look, what I seem like to other people. It was simply me, being me. I wish that every day felt this way. I wish that every breath was cherished, every moment ethereal. For now, in my mind I am lacking. I am lacking an education, beauty, intellect, wit, charm. I am lacking happiness, optimism, faith, security. I am not desired, I am not craved, but I am here nonetheless. I wish that I could escape. That if someone did desire and crave me – that they would show it. That I was enough for someone. For one person to think that I was the only thing they needed, their whole world. Conceited, perhaps, but I wish it was so. Any who have told me this have not been honest. They lie, they hold other things dearer in their hearts than I ever could be. Other girls, sports, casual sex, words, friends, their past. I will never be good enough. At times, I can accept this and go through life like it was roses and cherry blossoms and everything was great. A mask. There are times when I forget that I am sad, and I like those times. Yesterday, with the fireworks and the conversation with new and interesting people – I forgot. It was a time of almost clarity; just about that level of perfection.

I don't crave wild things most of the time. A walk in the newly risen sunshine, music, love. These are things which I want. There is something that speaks to my soul when I listen to someone on a guitar, playing with passion and care. Something that registers in my mind when I stare at the ocean or into a fire and think of nothing – or, of everything. Lost in pleasure of the senses with a slipping grasp on spacetime. Somethings we do bring us close to feeling this... but alcohol burns the memory, sex is fleeting, drugs leaden the body. I'm not sure if it is possible to be free all the time. I doubt it. I wish for more moments in the sun, more calm clarity with which to view the world.

I wish he loved me like he says he does.