Connections

[squirmelia]

My vision keeps being consumed by a gaze of longing towards nothing in particular, or sometimes the clouds seen out of the office window. I saw Before Sunset, and now it's as if a fresh twist of lust is twirling me towards it, and I feel like I did as a child watching Anne and Gilbert trying to ignore each other. Butterflies in the stomach, but not specific towards a person butterflies, more like caterpillars really, the edges of the leaves rustling. That connection between the characters, that's what's affecting me. I keep trying to remember if I ever truly connected with anyone, in any kind of meaningful way, and well, maybe. I could pretend that I have a force-field around me, or that I'm a paid up member of the cult of aloneness, but, actually, I admit fragmented moments, faded a little now, in not such a bad way, even though the pages are torn and mangled. Whether those connections were real or just a momentary lapse from reality that made me look into the distance and not care about anything closer for a while, doesn't really matter now.