Like Wildfire

Life is a constant motion, an array of epiphanies. Feelings arranged like flowers, by clumsy hands. Sometimes you are the mountain and sometimes you are the climb. Today I am the mountain.

If I've come to learn anything in my 32 years of life, it is that sometimes you need to let someone look at like you like you are a map, like a mystery, like a puzzle they can't wait to put together. In these small moments, you take it in with a shot of whiskey, a breathe of air in silence, a single hair that escapes in an open-windowed car ride home that turns into a rain of chaos filled laughter.

So often we write when we are wringing our hearts out like wet laundry but what if we wrote when we felt ablaze? What if we wrote when sentences didn't make sense and hearts were a flutter? What if we stood on our rooftops and yelled that we were happy and in general wearing yesterdays' leggings but giving no fucks? What if we cheers'd on Tuesday nights to hope instead of waiting for weekends to fill our mouths with numb? What if.

Maybe if we all lived a little parachute-less. And I know you're thinking that this is coming from the girl who quite often walks out the front door and ends up rolling into the front yard. But maybe sometimes we jump with no safety net, confident in our ability to land.

I've never been much for sparks--I set forests on fire with a single look. When you find the reason, the match, the person....light it. Let it burn...like wildfire.

For once, I am filled with less words and more knowing eyes. Quiet thoughts and bowed heads and biting lips.