"Our endless days are numbered"

Last year there was a postsecret postcard of a sunset with that phrase on it. I saved the photo and not too long ago I ran into it. I've been writing that phrase in pieces of paper or my hand, it's important that I don't take my life for granted. Days are just going away, so fast. I realized today that it is already the end of the month and that's just crazy.

There's so much love to give.

I read this post the other day and realized that, with the excuse of this weird limbo where I exist, I don't have a clear idea of where I want my life to go or who I want to be. I'm going to write a list of what I think I want, as if there were no obstacles. Here's to getting wings.

Thirst for words and summer mind don't mix

"Summer reading" is a term I just don't understand. To me, reading is an escape. Just the other day, I went with a friend to a park. We put a blanket on the grass and he got a Julio Cortazar book out. We read La Autopista del Sur together. It was great, the story took me everywhere the characters went and it made me feel everything they felt. That happens to me when I read, I become someone else and when I'm done, I'm left wondering who I am. That was a great read, but I only got through it cause we were reading together. If I had been reading on my own I would not have finished.

To me, summer is about being present (mostly outside). Feeling the sun burn your skin, feeling the water refresh it. Smelling the grass, the lake, the grill. Tasting the fresh produce, the water, the popsicles. Everything but reading. To me, reading is for winter; for those days I can't go outside because it's so damn cold it'd make me cry. But sitting with a book in the summer when I could be doing anything else? That just doesn't click in my head. Those "summer books"... those are for winter, to remind us that there is hope and the sun will shine again!

Yet, I'm soooo thirsty for words right now. It's a shame, because I have a pile of books I want to tackle. I'm thirsty for clever writing and maybe some giggles. Let's see if I pick up a book at some point again this summer. Maybe if it's with a friend, on a blanket at the park.

Songs on repeat

I have Mumford & Sons on repeat today.

Soothing. Lyrics made of gold.

There's only so much the heart can take. The body, the body is smarter. It knows what to do to heal. I was sick over the weekend and after throwing up, I'd get a cold sweat for a few moments. Moments that almost felt like the last moments, but it was just the body healing itself. Everything should be like that. Intense pain where needed and then moving on. But I keep mulling over all the what-ifs of my situation, instead of just getting up and walking out. Right now. Sometimes the solution seems to be right in front of me, so attainable and then it leaves me in this big-ass void. It leaves me wondering, too, who I've become and why.