Even those of us comfortable in our single life have moments of feeling alone. Maybe it's because you're lying to yourself about being comfortable being single? Maybe it's your suppressed insecurities surfacing? Maybe it's our ambiverted personality? The same personality trait that has us feeling isolated in a room full of people, let alone relaxing at home drinking your 4th cup of tea of the day before 1pm, slowly plowing through movies on Netflix.
Potential is a beautiful thing. The limbo of hanging in the balance between an infinite series of outcomes (something I could elaborate on on a deeper level but I will refrain). But beauty is relative. As much as something can be beautiful, it can also be ugly because a infinite series of possible outcomes aren't always going to be pretty.
Potential is the cocoons that caterpillars blossom from when you meet an incredibly beautiful woman. Potential is the energy running through the fibres of those transformed caterpillars in your stomach. It's the music that those butterflies dance to when she smiles at you, when she laughs, when you smell her perfume, when the tone of her voice resonates against your skin causing the hairs on the back of your neck to give a standing ovation, applauding the her excellence. Potential is the tempo of your heart beat when you think of her, because your mind suddenly becomes consumed with phantasmal images of optimism and ideas as though standing on the very edge of a tangible euphoria.
The exponential intensity of emotions as things with you and the said woman progress.
Now try and comprehend smoothly slipping back to contentment when all of that disappears in a moment...a moment that lacks explanation, understanding, sense, definition, and most of all....it lacks vindication.
Potential is a beautiful thing. The limbo of hanging in the balance between an infinite series of outcomes (something I could elaborate on on a deeper level but I will refrain). But beauty is relative. As much as something can be beautiful, it can also be ugly because a infinite series of possible outcomes aren't always going to be pretty.
Potential is the cocoons that caterpillars blossom from when you meet an incredibly beautiful woman. Potential is the energy running through the fibres of those transformed caterpillars in your stomach. It's the music that those butterflies dance to when she smiles at you, when she laughs, when you smell her perfume, when the tone of her voice resonates against your skin causing the hairs on the back of your neck to give a standing ovation, applauding the her excellence. Potential is the tempo of your heart beat when you think of her, because your mind suddenly becomes consumed with phantasmal images of optimism and ideas as though standing on the very edge of a tangible euphoria.
The exponential intensity of emotions as things with you and the said woman progress.
Now try and comprehend smoothly slipping back to contentment when all of that disappears in a moment...a moment that lacks explanation, understanding, sense, definition, and most of all....it lacks vindication.