A lot, a lot.
The kind of "a lot" that makes me want to watch The Titanic and When Harry Met Sally and write a new chapter in a story I'm working on about a beachtown.
- it's the kind of "a lot" that makes me want to paint a picture when I've run out of words, and to fall asleep for days and days and days; to hold a sleeping baby and to be hugged and rocked and soothed for one whole hour.
The kind of "a lot" that keeps me from eating, and makes me want to lay on a blanket and stare at the sky until the world starts to make a little bit more sense.
The kind of "a lot" which makes me want to jump to conclusions and scramble for control, and to hastily find a way to "fix" things- even when at the bottom of all of those jitters, I know at my very core that the only real answer is to give everything an insurmountable amount of time.
The kind of "a lot" where I really want a pedicure, except for the fact that I don't want anyone to actually touch me.
The kind of "a lot" when you've made a sudden, overwhelming realization, and the gravity, and the depth, and the reality starts to sink in- and before you know it, everything regarding that realization feels like a 1,000 pound weight across your shoulders.
The kind of "a lot" which belongs to Holden Caulfield, and to this song, and to the fact that I just wish I could lock myself in an aquarium and watch an octopus change the density and color of its skin to reflect its moods, and wonder if I had that power, just what color would my skin be, today?
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