Currently listening to:
The Only Moment We Were Alone
Explosions in the Sky
Some brief thoughts,
I think I get why people are interested in religion, it's sort of a solidarity thing and maybe even an attempt at being humble. I'm not sure why there's a split where some people are stuck on the ideas and others live day to day without needing more than life and the world. I guess I'm biased, being one of the day to day people; with all my adventures and quests I just don't feel like I need anything more, something invisible.
*****
Also, there seem to be more signs I'm still a child. I understand how clinginess in its degrees can be wearying, but there's a reason for it in its place. Everyone is a child at times, needing to be dependent, needing to hold onto the fabric of someone's shirt for safety, needing an accepting heart, a patient heart; just a heart large enough to take them in. In other shoes, who's to say what's justified? Those not possessing stolid hearts can't help the feelings that overflow; they love and weep and cast drama liberally because there is less harm in it, aside from bothering the adults.
When I was young, I thought I was lucky by avoiding the drama of school. Now I realize the meaning that was collected, squeezed from each of those moments. All those little romanticists running around, loving and weeping. I've become one of them too late; a wallflower that missed its season and bloomed in winter. Alone?
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