Infinity in a Moment :: English Literature Essays

Infinity in a MomentDear Mel, Ive finally come to a conclusionthe first in my life I think. Im in love. What an annoying nothingthe word love. Undermined after years of unrepresented social occasion and manipulative thought. Contemporary teens, playing with matches to start a fire that willing lonesome(prenominal) burn down their own foundations of security and ontology. Its a card trick to them, after all theyre immortal, apprehensions are as pointless as relationships. Throwing around promises that should tear the doors of heaven apart show metaphors incapable of description, but instead suffocates in a beer glass. Love go for to mean something. It still does for me, but for others its a cryptic dialogue, mantled for the mere usance of placation. To reach that level of appeasement, to get her into your room or to that party or into that pathetic dream that was summoned from the filth of petulant, diseased weakness. wealth used to buy money less valuable. Absurd reality that t ortures its puppets. Its a momentary high that you inhale when unhappiness overcomes boredom I think I love that girl over there, as he falls from the pinnacle of a drunken revelation. What does he think? messiah Christ, what happened to that inexplicable emotion that could jump into a pregnant pool of loony bin and bear harmony? Im just rambling of course, because who wants to be told that their life is extravagant without love? Or can infinity unfeignedly reside inside a moments establishment?The only light in breath becomes that crystal that reflects the only happiness. Pretty rock. The understanding to brush your teeth, build materialism in a gym, make the plain goal to win an A paper. So if she flies higher to a bird with brighter feathers do mine wither away? Our constructed bridge of self-image that chiseled a connection in her heart is burned, buried, and consumed by the soiling footsteps of the mass. Is my purpose forgotten, a blaring cacophony of everything worth liv ing for now lessen to a mere whisper carried by a struggling jumper lead? Life is so fickle. The purest form of logic in a housecoat of recycled tears. Smile. Click. Flash. Infinity in a moment impossible? Not when deep in thought(p) in her eyes. Oceans of polished perfection, dreams radiating in a sunset. Redundant? Or perhaps the point is still overlooked. Lips against cold glass only fabricate steam until the reflection melts into my own and I feel for the first time the embrace of divine fulfillment an ecstasy of climax in literature.