Firsts

Firsts

There are way too many moments when I can't help but thinking: what would it be like if we could remember all of our first times? How would our lives change if we could relive them?

The first time you gasped for air: how much it might have hurt, what a relief it must have been. The first smell. The first time you heard music. The first time you felt a tear run down your cheek: that tingling on your skin, the ache. The first time you saw the sun: the light, the warmth, that feeling of joy only a ray of sunlight can give you. The first time you touched grass.

What if life was made of firsts times? How amazing would it be if you could experience everything for the first time over and over and over again? A sunset. Rain. Snow. Cold. Heat. Hate. Rage. Pride. Pain. Joy. Like somehow we could get the feeling of it being experienced for the first time...

Like a kiss.

It might not be your very first kiss, but every time you kiss someone different it feels like the first time. Why can't we experience everything the way we do when somebody you really like touches you for the very first time? That tingling on your skin? The racing of the heart? The butterflies in your stomach? The aching necessity of smiling that you just simply can't hold back. Everything.

Firsts.

Because once we experienced things for the first time, after that tingling moment of excitement is passed, we start taking everything for granted. Suddenly sunsets aren't that majestic. Rain doesn't tingle in our skin like it used to. The warmth of the sunlight annoy us. We avoid hate and pain and cold. We forget what joy felt like. We become these automatic creatures that feed on routine and complacency. We become what we always feared most: we become robots. Machines that do what they have to every day. We do and then repeat. It's easier. We don't think. We don't feel.

But what if we could relive all of our firsts times? What if we could feel that tingling in our skin every single time? What if our hearts raced every moment? We wouldn't get accustomed to routine. We wouldn't become machines fulfilling what we think is our destiny. We wouldn't be automated robots following patterns. We would return to being... human.

Emily Blame,

November, 8th, 2015.

If you're listening to this... you're the Resistance.-

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