Superficial excitement.

I've been planning to write something for a long time now, but I just can't seem to gather enough inspiration. After all, almost everything never is enough these days. It is exhausting to try to scratch too many surfaces. It feels like so many things have happened, but there are no clues where they all lead to, and there is no gauge to how far I have gone.

The excitement and thrill in a beautiful moment wears out my heart. It is odd that admiration can involve a negative feeling, which is hard to even describe less vaguely, not because admiration is tiring, but because it allows the possibility of disappointment. Or so I may want to believe. It is not so easy keeping out of touch of the whim on a dream coming true when it was not expected to, especially when the whim is so enjoyably wonderful. What a limbo it is to jump in and out of the present and the memories alternately, never quite rooted in any of the two each time.

The indifference to the most important things tickles well-kept heartaches. It seems easiest not to care to shield the self, but at one point or another the shield only proves vulnerability, and even explains it. But indifference also makes it hardest to forgive. It does expose pain, but most of the time, being the thing that it is, indifference gives the impression that there is nothing wrong. Or there no longer is, so that it almost fakes acceptance. Indifference just shows little of either of these two things depending on my mood - heartaches or acceptance. In the end, I still have to choose.

It is quite scary looking down from high hopes. It is a wonder how things can build up and become so exciting, and then suddenly the pace gets stuck up and nothing happens to sustain the excitement anymore. But it is a scarier thought to be riding through all the excitement and then finding out later, during the reality that comes after the thrill, that the ride was not just too fast but also too early. It would be a torture to be dragged and beaten up by the days that will follow. And so I smile at a plan that has been taking its time to unfold. It is this incompleteness that I am most glad about. I refuse to let others' hurry affect my movement, and I delight myself with the time I have been granted to be ready. I know that's what this time is for, because I know the best is being prepared for me. My faith tells me so.