on meteors

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There is a meteor shower tonight. The sky is clear and the moon is thin. And I think about walking down the street and up the hill to lie on my back and watch the universe fall down. Everything that happens to me lately is in extremes. I have no middle ground. I feel better than ever. I don’t want to leave bed. It’s a coin toss. 

You and I we talk about the circular nature, and the insanity of love. I pretend to see whatever you see. Strange cities and open roads and large wheat fields that eat your days away. You remind me of someone I used to love. You tell me about the good hard choices and letting people in. You speak on the half life of a bruised heart. I think about my rib cage. 

I keep going back to the idea of how maddening it is to be us. How being a person is the greatest and strangest thing ever. And then I think about how incredible we are as souls and humans. And how resilient we can be and how ashamedly fearless our memories are. They plague us and teach us and continue to press upon us so long after they were made. I think it is so perfectly ironic how we fall in love, and lose love, and get over love, and get taken through the ringer, and how we still after everything go seek it out and yearn for it in the dark of night while stars burn out. 

I can’t help myself but make the metaphor here.