January 23, 2012
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impossible
Live through this,
and you won't look back.- Stars, Your Ex-Lover is Dead
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"Well, you know, half of it is the attitude."
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There is something so beautiful about aiming for "impossible," and truly believing that you have the potential to achieve it.
Yet, once you strike those diamonds, once you actually accomplish unearthing that core, "impossible" becomes dangerous. It is both extraordinary and frightening when dreams manifest into reality.
The consequences are instantaneous. You become unable to settle for less. You can no longer chase improbables, because once you have tapped into that oil rig of impossibility, it becomes more than "achievement." It even transcends amazement. It becomes addiction.
It is a high when life becomes unreal. Once your storybook daydreams see the printing press, you can't close the pages anymore. You can no longer bring yourself to look back. You see the themes and the fables everywhere, and you meticulously pick stars from the sky and make them your own. You decorate your room with them, to illuminate you, and you alone.
Yet the constellations on the wall, in all of their glory, are beautiful. They are exhausting, and they drain you of strength and power, yet they are so beautiful. You wonder why you ever tolerated their fire, until their luminous dances remind you of why you are always running, running, running. It's enchanting. It's gorgeous.
Whether "impossible" is under the magnification of phase contrast microscopy or in the relapse of distant memories, "impossible" is so gorgeous, it becomes difficult to remember how ominous it is. It just entrances you in its spell. It is bewitching.
Impossible is such a beautiful addiction.