I enjoy people most when they are filled, bursting, outpouring with energy. It doesn't matter whether the nature of this energy is positive or negative. It's the presence of any kind of energy and its relative animation; the buzz of hatred or love. The stimulant to all kinds of things that excites me. I enjoy watching people being energetic, and watching that energy twist and pierce the skin of those around that person. I like the taste of an atmosphere filled with a lot of people with a lot of unheard noise, and the kinds of expressions that they carry on their bodies and faces. Energy never seems grey. It doesn't have to be loud nor vibrant, it just needs to feel akin to hope but more abrupt, more fresh and with a soul that ripens and bursts. Hope dies too slowly. I enjoy observing the fierceness to an angry person with an enormous pit of negative energy, and watching them plot to push down buildings and slap baby animals. I enjoy watching a happy person paint themselves rainbow, dance to their own poorly-composed songs and embrace the world with fingers that wiggle gaily because they can't help themselves. I feed off these people, absorb every little morsel of what they have to offer and breathe a little of their air. I suppose this energy is the rush we feel when we are connected to a moment in our lives; our way of communicating our own raw experiences. I don't believe that all experiences are meaningful, I'm not even sure I believe in the kind of meaning I crave so inherently but I'm still waiting for a kind of enlightement, and patience is a thing I am becoming acquainted with frequently so maybe a few calendars down the track, I will know a little more with certainty. I came home and had too many spoonfuls of glorious baileys with icecream, and I'm just tired of feeling like a body with no bones and too much skin.
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