Missing my moonbeam.

Living in the now, accepting things as they are, embracing your current situation -- should be so easy. But it's not. We are so accustomed to mulling over the past or wishing on a future, desiring something different, convincing ourselves the grass is greener on the other side. But that's no way to live. That's the way to live if you want to die before you even get the chance to live. Fully, properly, peacefully.

With my very dearest friends so far from near, I am forever guilty of wishing for a different situation -- that all my best friends and I could live in one place; that my family was just a drive away rather than a Facebook message and several thousand miles away. Despite my largely inexplicable attachment to LA, I abhor its desert-like characteristic when it comes to finding gem-like beings -- they are few and far between -- it's a barren city. But it's likely the city's and my fault alike, as I don't extend my efforts too far when it comes to sifting through socialscapes. I am happy with who I have, but the majority of who I have and cherish also happen to be out of physical reach.

When I have tears no one else can understand, silences no one else can translate, a broken being no one else can help put together, a shattered soul no one else can console -- I am left to my own vices. The vices of my mind whose tendency is to make matters worse; to dwell and dwell and dwell. I am not fully myself without my kindred spirits. My laughs aren't as often, my smiles aren't as wide, my heart not as full.

But I am full. I am whole. I am me.
Just not as me as I am with them.

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