White washed.

Theme Week 11: Distance, Frame, Alienation

You don't know what love is until you come out of it. True love is that moment between life and death where your whole life flashes before your eyes. You learn to love when you learn the desperation of what it is to live, how precious the human life can be. You don't know what true love is until it really is gone.

It was a dream that was real, and a reality that was a dream, and this is what I learned.

So many people say that they believe in love at first sight, in true love and soul mates and romance. So many people are disillusioned to the point where they think love just happens. Love is easy, love is grand, love can make you happy; But love is a feeling, just like happiness is a feeling, that can be changed just as easily as a smile can be wiped off of your face. It's a clay, a mold, play-doh.

It has to be shaped and poked and prodded and tooled, it has to be baked and rolled, twisted into snakes, squashed into patties, squeezed through a spaghetti press.

I remember getting those little play-doh sets as a kid. My favourite part of the set was when I put the multi-coloured twists of dough into the plastic doll head, and put it back on top of the body, squishing spaghetti rainbow hair.

The worst part was when it was mixed too much, and it turned a lovely fecal brown color.

Things happen to me that way. I mix them up too much and then they turn ugly.

I never think about the possibility of mixing the brown with tons of white, and then red, to maybe make it a pretty coral or pink again.

I guess you could say there will always be a little element of that brown in there, but the rest of the white and red might make that insignificant. Just a figment, a memory.

posted by Kasey @ 2:33 PM