turn off my heart

I enjoy the last sip of wine...the sweet and tart sip that leaves you satisfied and craving more.

That's life.
The awkward mix of contentment and need for something else.
That's life, to me.

What I've been and what I am never measure up to what I want to be. There's a weird sense of failure, when you know you aren't failing, but all you're really doing is just getting by. I'm going though all the right motions.

Why do the motions have to be right. And why does what's wrong seem so wrong.
I'd make those question marks, but they have no answer. And then that's another almost failure.

Everyday I dare myself to do something that no one will think I'd ever do. Everyday I do not do those things. Everyday I stay who I am, and fail at stretching my ability to live freely.

I am in love with a man that captivates my soul on a daily basis. I am in love with a man that makes me giggle like a little girl and laugh until I can't breathe. I am in love with a man that makes me challenge my own intelligence and challenge the ways of the world. I am in love with a man that has somehow managed to keep me falling in love, deeper and deeper, everyday. I am in love with a man.

That paragraph didn't fit, and I'm sure your brain couldn't connect it. But that's the point of this love, my love, our love. For me, it fits - no matter where I put it. The pieces always fit.

My taste buds somehow spoke philosophy. One sweetly tart sip has turned my heart and head on overdrive. Do not assume I am intoxicated. Half a glass means nothing. The smallest trigger of any of my five senses can cause a post like this.