'I don't want to be someones forever. '
Isn’t that the point though? I don’t want to go through life being someones Saturday night secret. I don’t want to wake up on Sunday morning trying to find the hands that touched me like I would break but are now nowhere to be found. I don’t want to wake up to cold sheets and a note that tells me to lock the door once I leave.
I want to be someones forever. I want three day adventures that we didn’t plan. Coffee shops that have dusty shelves and an old soul. Bottles of wine that we have collected through the years that leave imprints of where we left them. I want to explore their body at 6am, 11am, 9pm. I want cooking dinner to be something magical where we singe our fingers from trying out a new recipe and having those bright eyes stare into me after kissing my fingertips better.
I want. I want. I want.
I want all of it. I want October and our shitty pumpkin carving disaster. I want November and drunken slurs after our Thanksgiving feast. I want December and Christmas Eve while we re-watch terrible made for t.v. holiday movies. I want New Years Eve and the countdown to midnight but knowing it isn’t going to end there.
I never asked you to be my forever. My forever is out there and when they’re ready, they’ll find me, and then I’ll know exactly what home will feel like."
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare."