The physics of yearning

Can the yearning for something ever become so heavy, so powerful as to transcend the limited realities of this world, and make the wished for, longed for, ached for exist again? And what if it never really existed at all?

Do you make the gods true simply because you believe in them? Do stories become reality simply because you told them? And if you tell it a thousand times, does it make the story any more true? The neurons travelled the path of that narration so many times, that what was pure imagination has now become memory.

And if it did exist, but is no longer here, then where does it now reside? I imagine the vacuum of eternity, far too empty and far to cold.  It is held in the physics of yearning, hung in space, and stretched across time. And in that universe, the wishing is hydrogen, the wanting, helium, and longing is the fusion that fuels the stars. The hard iron ache will never go away. Supernova breakdowns will pepper the vast expanses with platinum shrapnel. And in all the many worlds that arise, carbon memory leaves its mark; filling your mouth with ashes, blinding your eyes with diamond tears.

Incestuous Siamese Twins!

.... there, got your attention.

National History Judging was today, so I spent my Sunday, 6:45am-6pm out and about doing teachery things.  Came home exhausted and emo, because the drive home was strangely reminiscent of a different and happier time.

Felt a strange urge to write upon getting home, which is why there is this weirdly Jeanette Winterson-like piece of prose just under this entry.

The bad news is that I've been not in the mood to be productive all evening, so I've got 2 lessons to plan and 1 SAC to write before tomorrow morning, and sleep-time is rapidly diminishing.  It seems unfair that my weekend has been swallowed up by emoness and work.

Anyway.  Time to listen to BassHunter instead of my Emo playlist because I'm more likely to be energetic and productive that way.