I had a mountain. A big one.
I have a city. A big one.
Right in front of my eyes, I’ve watched things manifest.
I’ve always said I wanted to move to Colorado, live on the side of a mountain, and wear flannel every day. Well, I did that. All of it.
Then, I said I wanted the city. I wanted to feel small among all the cool people of Denver. And well, I feel that. It’s hard not to.
Looking out, I get perspective. Quite literally. I’m lucky, where I live. Where I have been. What I have been able to do.
I want a mountain. So one was sat right in front of me.
I want a city. So it becomes my skyline.
I want something new. So, my everything becomes new.
I don’t know if it’s the universe. I don’t know if it’s my thoughts. I don’t know if it’s God. I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence. But everything I have wanted, in a way, finds me. Definitely never in the way I expect, nor necessarily want. For sure not in the timely manner I hope. It usually finds me hanging upside down, hair reaching for the ground, cheeks drooping into my eyes. It finds me and tells me to turn right-side up. Eh, it’s more of a yell.
What is it? Perspective? Hope? Dedication? I couldn’t tell ya. I’m sure some book will tell me it’s the manifestation of my thoughts. Or that is the compound of all the little things. Or it’s the doing, or plan, of a greater being.
I don’t want to make it sound like everything goes my way. Because the same way things turn out for me, my horrors are just as present. I know what I don’t want, and that is exactly that what I get sometimes.
Maybe it’s just being aware, like hyper-aware of circumstances mingling with my thoughts. Manifestations find me in a way that makes me wonder, did I do that? What made that happen? Like, for real?
It’s comical, really. I have been feeling off lately. Off in the kind of way that is indescribable. I’ve been busy. I’ve had a lot of fun. I don’t let myself get too high in the moments. More figuratively than literally.
I’ve found myself content, and to be honest, it is a foreign feeling.
It’s so foreign that I actually feel myself trying to hijack the good part of the feeling. It’s like I know something’s going to be wrong, or something’s going to happen, so I prepare myself to be worse off. I fucking expect it.
But then I see the city line. The long, tall towers reflecting the moonlight onto everything else.
I get the perspective I need. In such a way that it knocks me out of my shoes.