Story Flows Through My Veins

I really shouldn't watch movies anymore. I really shouldn't.

They set me dreaming, dreaming like I'm not really here. Dreaming like adventures are possible and love is here. I've tried to describe it before, but all I've ever been able to accomplish is that story flows through my veins. Call me crazy, but it's almost like I can feel it.

Scratch that. I can feel it. It's an ache in my arms, a tremor in my chest. Words, yes, but also images, thoughts, emotions. They rush through me and crowd at my fingertips. I've tried to put that into words, too, the crowding in my fingertips. They're all there - all bunched up together - and they're just waiting and pushing and shoving to get out.

They are about everything. They are about love lost, love found, things hoped for, dreams, betrayal, loyalty, passion, treachery, duty, pain, honor, and horror. Everything. The things that make your heart beat. The things you think when you see a princess in a flowing dress, or a cowboy riding to rescue, or an adventurer who can't be thwarted, or a son who still sees the good, or a kiss...a timeless kiss.

It is times like these that I can't focus. If I could, a story like no one has ever seen would come forth, I'm sure of it. But my mind is too scattered, and a story it does not make. Perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps if I did write it, I would feel it is my own. And I am pretty sure it would never be my own.