I love my window because it has the fire escape on it and when I sit there looking out at the rusting metal with bits of black paint peeling from it, it clears my head. Something about it makes me feel good. And through that release from my own thoughts puts me into my thoughts even more.
 

I look out even if I don’t look up toward the sky like a contrived movie pose, I think perhaps like Fival with the whole “Somewhere out there” sentiment.

I mean is there really someone out there that is your soul mate. Is there really a person who is thinking of you and you of them regardless of where you are in the world? I mean is there someone who has gone through life in just such a way that makes you and them the perfect match?

Or is it possible that there is more than one person out there that is your perfect match. Does soul mate even mean what it is meant to mean. People get remarried, people die and meet someone to fill the void, yet I wonder if perhaps we might miss out on that chance to be with the perfect person because we can settle. Because we can sacrifice the idea of that ONE person to be loved.

Do we match due to astronomy, or do we match from feelings, or perhaps since the idea is that when we don’t look fo it it finds us, that there is a predetermined fate for us and who we will love, but when it happens can we actually make it happen and is it possible for it to slip through our fingers. Then what? Do we control it or does fate?

Can friends turn lovers when as friends it can be halted by other lovers…

Are we actually just making up this thing called love, because don’t we strive to learn how to love ourselves before we can find love, and isn’t that a life long journey for everyone because our lives constantly evolve and the person in the mirror is never the same.

Is it possible to feel heart break when you haven’t even felt the love yet?

Blah so many questions, so many ideas. I was right in one thing, pointing myself in the right direction and being unsure is way better than getting comfortable and being the wrong way.

I’m writing incoherently… so the end.