End Kwote

After it's all said and done, life's just a bunch of kwotes

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Close my eyes.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Meditating is one of the only ways to escape the life’s mud pits and conveyer belts. To close your eyes and focus on the center. To close your eyes and let your lungs expand and deflate without consideration. To close your eyes and feel full and calm and surprisingly, pleasantly blank.

To think of nothing. Glorious, absolute nothing.

That’s the idea at least. To clear your mind of all thoughts. To get rid of anything that might be holding you down in the muck or keeping your mind scrambling on ever-accelerating treadmills.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I meditate every day. And I’ve learned to channel the nothingness that lets me find sanity.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

But recently, I’m struggling. I can’t sweep the clouds of consciousness from in between my ears. Rather, there’s one thing that keeps me from blank serenity. One cloud that won’t clear with all the others.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I try hard to concentrate. My brain contracts, flexing like leg muscles attempting to lift life’s gravity. But no matter how hard I try, you’re still there. Your face in my head.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I squint my eyes tightly shut. Maybe the tighter I squeeze, the quicker you’ll disappear. Tighter. And tighter.
But it’s impossible. You’re always there, bright like shadeless lamps, like freshly lit candle wicks. There, smiling at me, lifting me up with no effort beyond existing.

It should be frustrating. It should make me clench my fists and concentrate harder. It should make me unfulfilled. It should ruin my escape.

But I let my mind wander. Just a little. Wander wonderfully with you.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

And instead of erasing, I begin to draw. I begin to trace the lines of your back with the tips of my fingers. Running them slowly up and down making sure not to miss a single centimeter of precious canvas.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Our faces are so close. Close enough to feel our breath colliding together in calm explosions.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I’m not sure if this is how this is supposed to work. I don’t think I’m doing it right. I’m messing it up. And with anything else, that would frustrate me.

But now, somehow, I resign. Here, helplessly thinking of you, I just don’t give a damn.

Because there’s nothing more serene than staring at your eyes until I feel like there’s nothing else in the world to look at. There’s nothing more comforting than feeling your hand against mine, warm like the first spring sunshine. There’s nothing more calming than going to the place you take my mind. A place where I can bathe in the sun for as long as I want without worrying about getting burned.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I think, just maybe, that meditation is for suckers. Because I’ve found something that makes me feel what has seemed nothing but distant even in my dreams. I’ve found something that doesn’t plague my head with what ifs and if onlys. I’ve found something that takes me to a place that meditation could never afford a ticket to.

Maybe in the darkness and blankness in which I once found refuge, I found something better.

You.

End Kwote

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