and i tussle with the air, wishing it were there.

i've come to believe that our lives are scripted in its moments. that there are things that happen again, and that there are things that remain as memories. that there are moments that you treasure, but in that similar moment, the other party eternalized in your memory forgets it all. that there are people who chose to remember pain, whilst others choose to remember the joy. you know the phrase, i'll give another breath of my life to experience it all over again? i've come to believe that sometimes even if you want it so desperately to happen, that you try with all your might to make the factors constant, the results will turn out different. what happens in the world isn't as constant as science, that factors cannot be assumed to be at a constant, that every moment has a different value and that itsy bitsy value will alter the moment.

and now i understand with clarity the beauty in this line from steinbeck;

"As happens sometimes a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stoopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment. And then the moment was gone." -john steinbeck(of mice and men)

and i miss my moment.