Cold

A ripple for every moment

Frigid sky scattered here and there. Shadows watch mountains who are not easily scared. Snowflakes fall as time stands still, while sun's warmth trembles under the treacherous chill. Depths run thin as the ice grows, and blue meets white in the blue shallow. Everything covered perfectly in a blanket, one that is cold and doesn't need to fake it.

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This journal entry has been tagged with:

• Life
• Dance
• Analogy
• Relationships
• Impatient

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Life is a dance. I've been dancing for 24 years, and I've always been one step behind. Always one turn, one spin, one hesitation behind where I'm supposed to be. Sometimes I feel I'm so far behind that I'm tripping on my own shoes or somebody else's.

I wrote a poem once about the only girl who kept the song going. I danced with her for a whole summer. It didn't really feel like perfection, but how would I know what perfection is anyways?

I have spent the last five years thinking about that dance. Not everyday mind you, but enough to drive my confidence off the floor. I've tried picking it up again, but I never could quite jump in. Almost like the pace has quickened and the patterns have changed. And here I am, stumbling to learn the steps all over.

Almost a year has passed now since I've asked to dance with someone else. She liked me for awhile, but I was learning too slow. I couldn't keep up and we fell apart. I practice new moves every night just hoping she will give me another chance, one last dance I probably don't deserve or really want.

Maybe I haven't found my true partner yet. Maybe I need to look for someone as clumsy as I am. I just know that I am tired. I am tired of searching for her and I'm not getting any younger. I just want to dance.

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