"Sometimes I think," she said to herself in that voice that narrates one's thoughts "that I am meant to be wondrous, to feel things fully and deeply and to live out loud. It is in the depths of my darkest sadness and the elation of moments too soon passed that I feel closest to this idea of what life could be and contemplate how to share it with others. Instead I find myself waiting, quieted in the stifling warm damp fogginess of my corrective and ordinary, rational thoughts. Like trying to breathe fresh air through a hot wet cloth."
I realized then that we probably all long to be something different from time to time. Some find this distinction in cruelty, others in kindness. In power or submission, anger or forgiveness. We all do things to make us feel like more sometimes without fully understanding the effect on those around us, searching themselves for what makes them whole. What makes them wondrous. I think maybe when we do recognize this we stop looking for what makes us feel like more than ourselves and start looking for what makes us feel more like ourselves.
