That it’s lonely at the top begs the question of what the
mountain is made of.
I HAVE A
OVERWHELMING FEELING OR REGRET. IT'S DUE TO THE
REALIZATION THAT THE PEOPLE I AM FRIENDS WITH LACK
SUBSTANCE AND THAT THE WAY I HAVE TREATED PEOPLE WAS
PAINFUL. AND I KNOW IT WAS ALL MY FAULT. I HAD A CHOICE. I
CHOSE TO BE FRIENDS WITH THESE PEOPLE AND I CHOSE TO BE A
THORN. WHY COULDN'T I BE A ROSE? I DON'T WANT TO BE
VAIN. I DON'T WANT TO BE NARCISSISTIC. I DON'T WANT
TO BE LETHARGIC. I WANT TO OOZE PASSION, WITH EYES AS
BRIGHT AS THE SUN. I WANT TO BE A LEADER. I WANT TO
PHILOSOPHIZE. I WANT TO GAIN. I WANT MY THOUGHTS TO REACH
MOUNTAINS.
Mountains
and Mystery
When I glance over at one of the countless small mountains I pass while on the road, it seems mysterious and important. It seems as if it might be a sacred place that holds an answer for me. If I interrupt my trip and turn off to explore the mountain, the closer I get to it, the more normal it looks. Eventually, when I’m standing next to it, I realize it’s just a big pile of dirt and stone. It’s dusty and dry. Occasional bits of litter have blown in and collected in the less-windy spots. It’s surrounded by fences put up by the various people who own plots of land around it and probably have long-standing disagreements with their neighbors.
The geological processes that continue to shape the mountain might be interesting, but that’s probably because they cannot be observed and must be imagined. Imagination provides its own wonder and interest to anything it considers.
So many things in life are like that mountain.
Our imagination might be the most beautiful part of the world, since it’s precisely when we imagine how things or people might be that they take on that beauty.
Once we explore anything, once we get our first job, first love, first anything, and we live with it for a while—once we actually experience something on a daily basis—it becomes normal, boring, dry, uninspiring, disappointing, and even forgettable.
Nobody remains as mysterious as we had imagined him or her to be. No endeavor satisfies us as we had imagined it would.
No secret seems worth preserving once we learn it. The keeping of a secret is precisely the thing that gives it value. Call something a secret, and everyone wants to know it. Try instead to spread the word freely, and no one has time to listen.
We are all drawn to the wonders of our own imaginings. We are all disappointed by reality.
Life is only beautiful while we imagine it to be.
When I glance over at one of the countless small mountains I pass while on the road, it seems mysterious and important. It seems as if it might be a sacred place that holds an answer for me. If I interrupt my trip and turn off to explore the mountain, the closer I get to it, the more normal it looks. Eventually, when I’m standing next to it, I realize it’s just a big pile of dirt and stone. It’s dusty and dry. Occasional bits of litter have blown in and collected in the less-windy spots. It’s surrounded by fences put up by the various people who own plots of land around it and probably have long-standing disagreements with their neighbors.
The geological processes that continue to shape the mountain might be interesting, but that’s probably because they cannot be observed and must be imagined. Imagination provides its own wonder and interest to anything it considers.
So many things in life are like that mountain.
Our imagination might be the most beautiful part of the world, since it’s precisely when we imagine how things or people might be that they take on that beauty.
Once we explore anything, once we get our first job, first love, first anything, and we live with it for a while—once we actually experience something on a daily basis—it becomes normal, boring, dry, uninspiring, disappointing, and even forgettable.
Nobody remains as mysterious as we had imagined him or her to be. No endeavor satisfies us as we had imagined it would.
No secret seems worth preserving once we learn it. The keeping of a secret is precisely the thing that gives it value. Call something a secret, and everyone wants to know it. Try instead to spread the word freely, and no one has time to listen.
We are all drawn to the wonders of our own imaginings. We are all disappointed by reality.
Life is only beautiful while we imagine it to be.
I've been moving mountains that I once had to climb.
Have you ever seen a
storm roll in? That's
the way she loved.
A drop or two to start;
♥ then the flood. ♥
© format coded by: br0kenwings
Please don't remove this, or make it invisible!
Image is from tumblr, original photographer unknown.
Please don't remove this, or make it invisible!
Image is from tumblr, original photographer unknown.
People always ask me why I've always preferred life in the mountains compared to the city.
Well, here's my answer.
The mountains and forests give me a sense of utter security, as well as a feeling of peace and tranquility. I feel sheltered and at home. There's a rhythm. I can't describe it, really. You just feel it. It softly sways you, it engulfs you, really. Almost like love, except possibly stronger. You can call it magic, I suppose. You can hear it buzzing, you can feel the vibrations.
I am in my element while I am standing amongst the trees.
I live in a small town, in the mountains.
I hate it. I have always hated it
I hate being seen as as someone from "the mountains"
I am not like that at all, not in the way I talk or dress, or the things that interest me, so I feel like I was born in the wrong town, in the wrong family, and it's very hard to be different where I live, without standing out
This is an example of the way someone talks, or the accent they use, bothers me
Visiting relatives over the holidays
Relative, usually an aunt or uncle or cousin: What do y'all want for christmas? How have ya'll been? You sure have grown, you got a boyfriend yet? Yuns have got to come over and see us more often
Me: (what I feel like saying, but of course, I never say it) I don't know what I want for christmas, but I know what you can use. A dictonary. I will get that for you and see how it goes
For some reason, my dad's accent turns more southern when he visits his relatives
Dad: The weather ain't too bad over here. Yea our business sure is hard to manage. it sure is
Me: Did you just say "ain't?"
After we meet and greet everyone, and spend a bunch of time together, we go to leave.
Me: (What I am thinking as I am leaving) "I am actually related to these people?'
Driving back home
Me: "god, why can't I live somewhere else?"
I hate being seen as as someone from "the mountains"
I am not like that at all, not in the way I talk or dress, or the things that interest me, so I feel like I was born in the wrong town, in the wrong family, and it's very hard to be different where I live, without standing out
This is an example of the way someone talks, or the accent they use, bothers me
Visiting relatives over the holidays
Relative, usually an aunt or uncle or cousin: What do y'all want for christmas? How have ya'll been? You sure have grown, you got a boyfriend yet? Yuns have got to come over and see us more often
Me: (what I feel like saying, but of course, I never say it) I don't know what I want for christmas, but I know what you can use. A dictonary. I will get that for you and see how it goes
For some reason, my dad's accent turns more southern when he visits his relatives
Dad: The weather ain't too bad over here. Yea our business sure is hard to manage. it sure is
Me: Did you just say "ain't?"
After we meet and greet everyone, and spend a bunch of time together, we go to leave.
Me: (What I am thinking as I am leaving) "I am actually related to these people?'
Driving back home
Me: "god, why can't I live somewhere else?"
