Sunrise

"Good morning, darling," I say slowly, as I caressed the end of your wiry strands... every piece placed perfectly on top of your sunshine brown hair. 

Analyzing every freckle, the discoloration from the sun causes a beautiful mess of self-expression across your irreplaceable face. The distinction that defies our test of time on earth spills across your skin so remotely.

Staring at the corners of this unique smile, the crevices remind me of the nectar that spills from your mouth. Your humorous way of doing things come from the corners, where you mischievously let me know that everything in life is so temporary, and that laughing is the remedy. I try to remember this, for it keeps me moving towards a better tomorrow. That's the beauty in those crevices... 

I stare into the eyes that speak a thousand stories. Stories of wandering, the stories of pain, the ones that one wishes to forget, and the ones we so heavily pray to never forget. There is a whole life behind the eyes of cerulean blue, that only so few truly know. If you look closely into it, the rim is like a sunrise, where, although there has been darkness on the rim, there is always a sunrise to start new, and that is where happiness blooms. You see, that is where the intimate crinkles of life are stored, alongside the faith to stay strong, and be courageous enough to live a life worth writing about. 

It's all these intricate details that make up what life is about. 

"Good morning, baby." 

That's all it takes. It's not a shot in the dark, hoping to remain in a mutual fondness towards each other. It's the gesture that means everything. It's the day our first date occurred, the day you asked me to be yours, the day we were joined as one, that one special day when we are three, and the days after that to come... 'til our last good morning. It's the beginning, and the end. 

There is a sunrise like no other this morning, and I know I've got something others spend their lives searching for at this moment. 

I think I'll stay in bed for five more minutes today. 

Who

"Who are you?"

Some would cringe at the sight of improper grammar, but take a moment to see beyond just what is being said.

Who is such a broadly charismatic individual. Who owns several masks. Not necessarily to hide from the world, or as a defense mechanism, but rather for pure entertainment. Who is who Who wants to be that day... did that make sense?
Sometimes Who is a university student, who flashes off her imaginary life- preppy colors and all.
Other days, Who wears the life of an individual of the backwoods, free and proud.
Most days, Who resides in the comfort of normal clothing, and simplistic ideas.
Who, however, creates worlds that are different and distant, loving and luring, scary and sacred.

Sometimes, Who forgets who is Who. Who gets trapped in this fantasy that has become hard to escape. Conforming to the concepts of today's youth.

Who sometimes transports to other era's, becoming someone else once more. Some days, Who lives in the 70's... Who loves the easy listening of that time. Who sometimes is an artist from the 20's... F. Scott Fitzgerald style. Who transcends through time. Who lives for the night, and dreams during the day for brighter nights.

Who creates these worlds, Who is infatuated by these characters who so desperately recreate the lives Who lived prior to this one.

We all live in the masks of our lives in respects to anonymity, but Who embraces the masks that have become a piece of who Who is and has become.

Who aspires to be so much, yet so little. Who has lived so many times, it is hard to determine what Who wants. Who has so much to learn, and so little to contribute.

Who is young and old, wise, yet naïve. Who is the student and the teacher, Who is omnipresent through time.

"Who am I?" "I am Who."

Dreams

Today, as any other day, is abnormally normal. 

Wake up, scroll through social media. Wonder what life will bring, get up, have breakfast, so on my merry way. It's just another one of those radically brilliant mid-mornings, where the sun is shining brighter than usual, and you feel the need to open the curtains so as to describe some sort of poetic reference to freedom. I become lost in my own mind, my world. "Oh, the places you'll go!" Dr. Seuss, I'm not sure if you meant physically or mentally, because my dreams justify both! Having traveled to Italy last summer, it made me realize that the world is so large, but so relatively small. The concept of how we are all interconnected (like dreams) is almost unimaginable. Crazy am I to doze off to a far away land, where I know what life will bring me. Play dress up, and live in a home with comfortable income, a happy marriage, and well behaved dogs (children... possibly). It's almost like a check list that my brain goes through... "School, check. Job, check. Happiness, un-checked." What am I seeking for?! Where is my brain taking me!!! Back into my cosmic reality, where I awake, and find myself stuck in suburban America. But it is a parallel universe where suburbs are really the ghettos of our complacent and settling lifestyles. The location where the story for "Revolutionary Road" should have been written. Where we were born and where we shall die. Dreams takes us away... let us wander. There is an attraction towards wandering, a sense of hope is ignited to the soul. We don't have to be stuck in one place forever, as long as we stay fruitful in our imagination. 

"Analexis, what is 'neuromuscular junction'?"

Today, as any other day, is abnormally normal.