Time Is Dancing

last night was one of the most wonderful moments of my existence.
to some, it was just another concert that they could cross off their bucket-list.
but waiting for something after years
feeling that blissful ignorance of the outside world
your mind, body, soul
consuming and absorbing all sound...
the only thought i had all night was
This.

hold it in, now let's go dancing
i do believe we're only passing through
wired again, now look who's laughing
you again, oh you, oh you, oh you

afterwards, with adrenaline and supreme physical fatigue
i began to find myself calculating
understanding
studying
the very moments in my life that i held dear
moments that flashed behind my iridescently dark pupils
during BH's euphoric, tender performance of my favorite tune.

now she's caught between
what to say and what she really means
and i am finally colouring
inside the lines that i live between

valentine's day is coming up.
and i am without an S.O.
now, understand
i am not here to express my loss
or my lack of passion and love.

when i think of love and tenderness,
my mind does not jump to holidays
birthdays
or conversations.

it's the time in between.
sitting in K's car, watching his eyes lay to rest and pretending the same with mine when his opened.
wiping away S's tears with both my thumbs as i held his head in my hands.
feeling the wind rustle my shirt as we lay in the dirt, gazing at the city skyline.
staring at the ceiling with one single crack; a pause between a hard conversation.
waking up with those green fields staring right at me at daybreak.

wrapped up in empathy
the chemicals are pushing past my blood
hold all my cliches at the tip of my tongue
to tell you that it's love

the wisdom's in the words sung by your mouth.
i've been keeping too many secrets to myself lately.

i have felt love and let it come to pass
unwilling and unable to voice the fiercing flame
beneath my chest
too many times over.
my heart is like a volcano
ready to explode.

i still wonder if knowing another's care for you or others
is the smart move.
feelings are feelings
they are there regardless of words or conversation.

but i'm beginning to understand the weight underneath your tongue
cramming down the fire
trying to flush it out with stupid jokes or laughs or ridiculous conversation
hoping that with enough bullshit,
you'll eventually put out the flame.

well i'm sorry to say, but that fire is still burning bright.

and i still have feelings for you.

hold it in, now let's go dancing
i do believe we're only passing through
wired again, now look who's laughing,
me again, all fired up on you

oh you, oh you, oh you

with love and light,
Eve Morgan

Fake It Till You Make It

Wow.
It's 2015.
Year number 4 for this blog.

I honestly forgot this existed for a little while until I showed a friend that I do still write every now and again.
I keep journals and notebooks, but I don't know, there's just something about typing on a computer that satisfies my craving need for utilizing technology for my passions, and in this case, writing.

I'm not even quite sure what I'm writing today exactly. For the past few weeks of this new year, it's been spent working, starting new classes, meeting up with old and new friends, as well as rethinking careers and getting ill within the first week of school.

I'm tired.
I'm frustrated.
I'm annoyed.
I'm depressed & desperate.
I'm struggling.
I'm worrying.
I'm wishing & hoping.
I'm trying.

None of the things on that list comes remotely close to "happiness" or "content" or even "euphoric".

I consider myself to be a well-all, happy person.
And I am most of the time.
I'm just beginning to wonder if this "fake it till you make it" thing is actually invading not just in my academic and my career-driven world, but in the personal, inner-working world of my mind.

It's a scary feeling.
A terrifying thought.
I definitely am beginning to think that worrying is what my brain does most.

When I get a headache, I think I have a tumor.

When my arm or chest hurts, I believe whole-heartedly that there's a heart attack or stroke coming on.

I worry about tests
papers
keeping up with the news to keep up my grade
my writing skills diminishing day by day
whether or not women find me intimidating and hard to be around
whether the title "home-wrecker" is just a rumor or if there's actually truth to that accusation
my friends and I and if those connections are as strong as they used to be or if they've become weaker...

the list goes on and on.

I really really want 2015 to be something that makes me proud of my decisions and my accomplishments in the following years.

But right now, it seems to be just another year of worry and another year without rest.

Maybe it's finally time to have a conversation with God again.
Because that seems to be the only thing to calm my senses and get me centered again.
And man, do I want to be centered.

I want to make 2015 a good one.
These are my good years right?
The young, carefree, exciting years.

So let's make 'em count, shall we?