Story about Intangible Things Essay -- Autobiography Essay, Personal Na

Intangibility used to be a focus of mine. I lived for the things that were fleeting and impossible to categorize. I was disembarrass of the constraints of anything and everything, from language to thought. I found beauty in the things you could not raise up and could not even grasp your mind around fully. Now I feel so far removed, I need something to grab on to. I need something I can touch and k analogous a shot is real, solid, and there--something permanent. It is give care being stuck in an Impressionist painting. Nothing is solid because everything is momentary and instantaneous. That was the categorization of thing I once reveled in. However, things are too muddled instantly for enjoying intangibility. I simply want comfort and firmness. I need a rock to hold on to or I am terror-stricken I cannot come back.The transmission line was particularly sticky that day. That sticky air was also accompanied by a sticky expression--a type of feeling that was foreign to me until that moment. I sauntered up the brick steps and doubtfully opened the precedent door to my house. Sweetie... Come upstairs, said my mom in a vocalization that was all too familiar. The word sweetie, when used by my mother, never meant undecomposed news. I walked up the stairs. There were fourteen of them, and I walked slow, taking in each and every small step. Eventually, I reached the top. I sat tidy sum on my bed indian-style and waited for the news I expected but did not want to hear. Kacie, your father and I are getting a divorce. When those oral communication finally came out of her mouth, it was as if I could have read the dictionary one hundred times and still be at a loss for words. All I felt was gaping holes where consciousness should be. It was like when you go to see a movie and you come out a few hours later blinking, lost, and wondering to you... ... is constantly radiating with happiness. The rain pervert that was lurking over my dads head for the past year ha s now been replaced with rainbow. And me, well, strange memories and waves of nostalgia tainted with deja vu have been hitting me frequently. Sometimes, I long for the old age that my dad, mom, sister, and I would spend together--all four us, one happy family. I could screen to blame it on the lack of sleep or nourishment, but I actually think Ive developed the Peter Pan Syndrome, or rather the Peter Pan Syndrome already encoded within me has simply braggy and developed, like a small tumor of now epic proportions. When am I going to let go and truly grow up? Nevertheless, every now and then I look back at my life and come across a blank spot where I lost myself, like skips on a scratched CD. Even though Im happy, that blank spot never fails to hurt like hell.