Recently, the occasions have become less rare and more of a recurring event.
I'm not sure why--I'm not sure how it happened, but it seems to be suiting me well.
Mountains will feed you.
I'm sure of it.
My imagination is reeling me in slowly and gushing in new thoughts for me to process,
filling my normally organized and particular mind with extraordinary ideas and pictures.
And somehow, I don't feel the need to share them.
My dreams are becoming mine; I'm selfish to keep them in and I love it.
Slowly I forgot about drama and people, not caring what they think.
I've begun to watch.
Watch their eyes, watch their unusual habits.
Try to determine the meaning of emotions.
Maybe it is my recent isolation that makes people's uniqueness captivating,
but maybe it's just that I haven't noticed it quite that way before.
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