You know when you hear music to a musical that you listened to eighty bajillion times as a kid? Or reread a book that changed your fourth grade year? And it brings back a mess of memories and things that can't quite wiggle themselves into true consciousness? Instead they bubble up inside you, too big to understand and too intricate to untangle, and make you want to cry and laugh and glare and fall in love and jump in a French lake all at the same time?
Well, maybe that's just me. I don't know. However you describe it, it's perplexing. Even still, I want to write about it. I want to make sense of it, but it turns into forcing sense into it, and I am obliged to leave it alone.
Let the emotions live in their half-realized haze, not unfulfilled, not nonexistent, but intriguing, and oh so riveting.
Well, maybe that's just me. I don't know. However you describe it, it's perplexing. Even still, I want to write about it. I want to make sense of it, but it turns into forcing sense into it, and I am obliged to leave it alone.
Let the emotions live in their half-realized haze, not unfulfilled, not nonexistent, but intriguing, and oh so riveting.
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