Madly gladly willingly

Ever sit across someone and realize that for everything that you have in common with them, every thing doesn't cut it? For all your sameness, your differences means more, it's the differences that hold you together?  And if you relied on your sameness, you both will disinegrate, like dandelions in the wind...

The restless souls of my life have more in common with me than they are different from me.  They grow in straight lines, evenly spaced, like rows of trees ready to be picked clean of their fruit.  They have settled in their Texases and their Philadelphias and Manhattans; alone among their scraps of wealth, built on tremendous and respect-worthy desires, caged within their doorman buildings and gilded towers and responsibility-demanding degrees, seeking to be different in the always tomorrows that never come, because on the surface, they are all the same, and their surfaces have completely enveloped their beautiful nuclei.

They are more alike me than they are different.  But because I want to be different, it's all to naught. Our childish loves might have sustained us in younger years, but truth demands more of us as we seek it, and those inviolable truths – likes and dislikes and dreams – simple because they were not tested, basic because they were not experienced, buckle under the weight of expectations and our burgeoning knowledge.  Our likes will not hold us together any longer; what have you?  It will be our dreams, the things that we cherish, our sacrifices, the ideas for which we'll bleed.. those will be the things that draws me to you, and will make me love, and in loving I can understand and...

I see desolate angels, with sad wings drooped and heavy, their muscles fatigued from lack of use, lack of air and lack of want.  Their words fly prettily by, and constrict their breaths because those words have no life.