Cotton Candy, Pops, and Caramel Popcorn

Holiday pastures and moonlit brilliance. it seems that nothing ever stays the same. we all want to think that we've made a difference in life, in the world, in people. we all want to be remembered one way or the other. people who became infamous are just runner ups, never really, officially, making it to the big leagues. known but not loved. or is it more loved by few, hated by all? Im not leaving until rain stops knocking on my windows. cant let it in. cant let it take me. there's something too personal, being in the rain. i cant stand it when it touches my face, taking liberties with its cold caress. it feels like death. stealing all my warmth one centimeter at a time. I used to love rain. i remember i would run out in my shorts and overgrown shirt just to bathe in its warm waters. but that was another life, another continent. I remember trying that here, the first time i saw rain. i froze my ass off. nothing is ever quite the same as we remember it. I never understood why rain was cold here, until i was eight years old I never even thought of another alternative anywhere else in the world other than warm, no biting wind, rain. snow was a foreign word to me. I thought of it as clouds drifting down like softly padded shooting stars. snow was for the children in Disney movies making snow angels and morbidly obese snowmen and women with snow children, sticks, buttons, scarves, hats and carrots and bits of clouds- seemed easy enough for me.

i see.

Do you remember that little rhyme we all used to sing when we were young? Yeah, the one where we'd all sing in unison when we put our little desks in a circle, the tape cassette playing in the background. Do you see what i see? do you see what I see?.... I dont remember the name. But the tune stuck with me. along with the words. Do you see what I see? Some how when we get older it takes a whole new meaning. forming more exigence as we ourselves grow. the desire to be understood.i. singular.i see.to be so involved in understanding. its like were reach our hands out for everything grasping. desperately grasping. hoping will get something out of it. hoping that a string of words'll mean something so much more than it really does. to understand. and to be understood. why does it mean so much to us... no. I dont think were meant to see eye to eye. maybe in a shallow sense yeah. but no two eyes are ever exactly the same. in shape, distance, color. or perspective.It has a sweet childlike quality to it doesn't it?

will you ever be able to see what I see?