Certain People You Too

Certain People You Too

In certain people there's something that makes everything explode with significance. For instance, normally a moment of eye contact between passing strangers on a chilly street in a mid-afternoon urban setting would mean nothing, or very little. But to one of these "certain" people, those eyes were the jewels of a treasure that they were far too cowardly to seize. In passing their destiny, they've deemed themselves either enlightened by divine signal or proven unworthy of the love, the hopeless and free love that just strolled past them.
These people have gifts, but they believe that they're cursed. They live consumed by extremes, forever a romantic adolescent among only flowering and wilting opportunities. They make stars out of streetlights and can't help but look up at night and think small. They are writers, maybe philosophers, artists; they don't serve a paycheck or a mortgage; they dream with their eyes open and hardly sleep because of it. Inspiration comes in hoards to them, but each leaf scattered in the autumn wind is, to them, a raging reminder of a lifetime of searching for passion, a soldier's struggling purpose, a plankton's journey across the entire ocean's floor. These people flicker, and they catch ideas (good ideas, bad ideas) like a candle catches hold of a blown curtain.