Jun 2015
We’re sitting on a hill. We’re listening to someone over the age of 40 introduce a band he says is lyrically good. I half-heartedly cheer when they take the stage. He looks at me, eyes twinkling and says,
“No, no, no. Like you mean it.”
“But....fine. Wooooo!”
“Come on. Like you mean it!” he chides, grinning. I relent and attempt to cheer ‘like I mean it.'
I let out an enthusiastic, “WOOOOOO hahahaha !”
I’m laughing as I cheer, finding that meaning it is fun. It’s invigorating. Being here with him, meaning it is perfectly fine. It’s been so long since I’ve had fun; so long since I’ve felt alive.
Feeling alive is meaning it. It’s just going, doing, feeling. It’s giving someone a door through those walls I’ve so carefully crafted. It’s the horrible hangover you get when you realize you’ve had too much ‘meaning it.' It’s living in the moment. Isn’t life just a compilation of moments anyway? Always mean it.
“No, no, no. Like you mean it.”
“But....fine. Wooooo!”
“Come on. Like you mean it!” he chides, grinning. I relent and attempt to cheer ‘like I mean it.'
I let out an enthusiastic, “WOOOOOO hahahaha !”
I’m laughing as I cheer, finding that meaning it is fun. It’s invigorating. Being here with him, meaning it is perfectly fine. It’s been so long since I’ve had fun; so long since I’ve felt alive.
Feeling alive is meaning it. It’s just going, doing, feeling. It’s giving someone a door through those walls I’ve so carefully crafted. It’s the horrible hangover you get when you realize you’ve had too much ‘meaning it.' It’s living in the moment. Isn’t life just a compilation of moments anyway? Always mean it.
