Mood:  lyrical

My favorite feeling in the entire world is the feeling of an epiphany; when a truth catches me unawares and makes me stumble. Tonight, one threw itself under my feet as I was walking in the twilight. I was listening to Anna Nalick's Breathe, and trying to remember if it was the song that was played when Meredith was pulling the bomb out from the inside of her patient and placing it oh so slowly in the hands of the man from the bomb squad. It must have been, because nothing else could possibly match, and if it wasn't, it should have been. I was walking and thinking of that scene, and how there Meredith stood, her hand wrapped around her entire life, and how close she came to loosing herself, and she sees Mcdreamy, and then, somehow she finds the courage to move. I can't remeber if the camera zoomed in on her hand, or if it was only me, but in those few moments, as she drew the bomb from the body of the patient, the entire world contracted around that hand, and nothing else existed. The world contracted and condensed and even heartbeats didn't matter any more. As the sound track in my head sang breeeeaaattthhhheee juuusssstttt breeeaaatttthhhheee, my world shrank to the size of that television screen, and all I could do was breathe, and then I stumbled. That was my life, playing on that television set in my own head. Everyday I flounder and drown, suffocated by the noise, the life, the world, surrounding me, and then just as I die, I see my Mcdreamy. I hold the brush and my world contracts and condenses and shrinks to fit that space of my hand, the brush and the canvas, and I breathe.

Mood:  lyrical

My favorite feeling in the entire world is the feeling of an epiphany; when a truth catches me unawares and makes me stumble. Tonight, one threw itself under my feet as I was walking in the twilight. I was listening to Anna Nalick's Breathe, and trying to remember if it was the song that was played when Meredith was pulling the bomb out from the inside of her patient and placing it oh so slowly in the hands of the man from the bomb squad. It must have been, because nothing else could possibly match, and if it wasn't, it should have been. I was walking and thinking of that scene, and how there Meredith stood, her hand wrapped around her entire life, and how close she came to loosing herself, and she sees Mcdreamy, and then, somehow she finds the courage to move. I can't remeber if the camera zoomed in on her hand, or if it was only me, but in those few moments, as she drew the bomb from the body of the patient, the entire world contracted around that hand, and nothing else existed. The world contracted and condensed and even heartbeats didn't matter any more. As the sound track in my head sang breeeeaaattthhhheee juuusssstttt breeeaaatttthhhheee, my world shrank to the size of that television screen, and all I could do was breathe, and then I stumbled. That was my life, playing on that television set in my own head. Everyday I flounder and drown, suffocated by the noise, the life, the world, surrounding me, and then just as I die, I see my Mcdreamy. I hold the brush and my world contracts and condenses and shrinks to fit that space of my hand, the brush and the canvas, and I breathe.