Sometimes I think that I live just for the experience of being alive. To expand my mind as I have of late, to sense new and familiar things, to laugh the loudest and at times shed tears. In many ways I am just stating a truth, even though I have come to believe that the closer we come to the truth the further away we truly are, but if one takes the first statement at face value then one has to ask what about all the other times? Is it that I am dead and thus not living to be alive? To me, living just for the experience of being alive are those moments when you have transcended all of societies norms, mores, values, and constructed realities and when one can just step back and say "wow." This is by no means easily and it’s just as possible that I have never ever been truly able to shed all of society’s constraints as honestly it does create my reality for me. But there are times will I can just be in wonder at it all, not aimlessly or at the majestic beauty but of just how un-comprehensionable it truly is.
Why is it that we dream?
Is it to see the promises of tomorrow,
or does it reflect events of the past.
Will I dream my wishes and desires
or do I embrace the shadows?
Why must I dream when it hurts
and why must I seek the meaning
in the dreams of yesterday when I
still must find the dream of tomorrow?
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