Just imagine for a moment...

Imagine yourself in an empty parking lot, vacant as far as the eye can see. Not a soul inside the perimeter of your mind, except for a nostalgic memory manifesting somewhere far out of sight. You see a highway of trees on one side of this parking lot, maybe some green foliage and maybe some bluebirds migrating away from the trees following the cloudy trail to where the sun dies. You look to the opposite edge of your parking lot and you see a variety of modern, man-made condominiums. Perhaps you know certain people who live in those dwellings. Maybe you remember when you once considered signing off on a lease to carve your own quarters into the pixelated dream that was once before, but never again. Now, think about what you smell. Maybe you smell that greenery smell from the trees or maybe a more aromatic scent dripping off of the nearby flowering plants into the very air around you. Think about how it makes you feel, being able to see everything in its own special way. Everything has a life of its own. Nothing is the same, every little detail is another chance to turn it all around, finding the beauty in everything that exists.

Now, remember that nostalgic memory that was somewhere far out of sight? It's matured into a growth of personality, soul and full of life and colour. That particular memory takes the shape of the man that you've fallen in love with; however, since there is a pretty large barrier between the two of you, the mere sense of his presence is bittersweet. Love can't help falling in love. Love consumes your heart and occupies your thoughts, positively or negatively, and sometimes either/or. Sometimes... that happens, too. That barrier will take the shape of a gigantic Plexiglas bubble that stays fixed in its space, kind of like a crystal ball. Now, you're encased inside of this clear sphere. You notice things that things are different. You see everything as it was before, thanks to the transparency of the snow-globe like object you're trapped inside of. Everything feels the same, smells the same, tastes the same, sounds the same and looks the same; except that it's a diluted form of the senses. Food becomes tasteless, the ambiance of separate rooms tend to merge into one monotonous box, nothing appears to be as exciting or as colourful as it would normally be and of course, something within yourself feels empty. You tend to daydream more this way, because your mind is flooded with the nuisance of this particular emptiness. There's no one around to hear your call for help. The casement is indestructible. The one thing that cracks the barrier is the only form of communication that is readily available, due to the irritating distance between the two of you, is the telephone. It dissolves the curvaceous walls away, even it it's momentarily. Then, my senses aren't so dull anymore. They come back to life and everything dissipates around us, leaving the two of us pulling cans and strings. The breakdown of communication is descending backwards. We've done everything completely backwards. I'm just looking forward to the day, when the prospect of flesh upon flesh would discard the idea of those telephones out the window, forevermore unheard of. At that particular time and place, phones could do no more justice. It's all personal from here on out.

Yes, this is me when I'm completely in love.