Always you

I get a strange feeling that in order to evolve into a substantial, pungent writer; I must experience more. And by experience, I mean you. I must step into a tide that will plummet me to my depths and swallow me whole, only to find myself once more. I don’t know what it is about this Valentine’s Day but I felt you. All around me. The wistfulness of its daybreak was reminiscent of the glee one feels as they flee into the playground and fling themselves to the first attraction that entices them. I must extend my experiences to become a better writer, for you. For us. How would I describe the mirroring of soul that you and I intertwine ourselves within without breathing down the neck of my own fears? To conquer. To feel defeat. What I know now is that I must live to experience so that I experience you. So much more to this life than what language limits us to. It’s funny, isn’t it? We keep ourselves up at night, trying to sort through it all. Realizing our best efforts would unbridle a mere sliver of this concoction a visceral experience could bring. It can be quite maddening. I sift through all the things I dream of and how to execute them. And then there’s you. Reminding me that the universe we spin within is far more well-written than one could ever ponder.