hesitations and daydreams

i've heard soft-spoken small talks, among which is the topic of life being like a box of chocolates.

see sometimes i like to think what they mean is that either you might discover something ripe, or you might uncover one thing that seems to be an allergy to nuts or jokers or folk who ride on the wild side... on the one hand, you might meet someone you really like and be nicely surprised, and on the other you might surmise that you need not oblige and can opt not to buy the box entirely. and as of late i've been saving my paper, taking the later option, gauging the world with way too much observation and not enough engagement. i don't know if it's because i'm indecisive or afraid to go insane from being exposed to so much bane behavior and making life choices that are strife and trite, but if you look at it from another angle, maybe i've just been trying to find a way to create my own box of delights...

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outside is where i like to reside at night; i aspire to rise to the sky and take flight. the shuddering thrust of shuttle's throttles don't quite drive me out of the stratosphere as concisely as i'd like, so my imagination is what i rely on to sidestep vile chides and incite wild diagrams of art and

stars made partially out of carbon, gravity packing it aptly until it's compacted into a giant diamond or supermassive black hole swallowing hypergiants whole, but only remaining active so long as they don't evaporate and

novas in multiple modes and wavelengths -- indigo and emerald, amber and ruby, topaz and sapphire -- casting iron atoms across vast patterns of gas until irregular nebulae contract and hatch heavenly masses of matter, and

patches of atoms colliding and seemingly counteracting inertia, abiding by ground-shattering verses and laws rehearsed even by binary and trinal star systems, reminding us that the tiniest particle is hardly visible and

abysmal calculations are being made to trace the way i gracefully skate through this cosmic playscape, scouts proudly taking aim with layers of glass laying in telescope mouths and bases and

basically banal estimations and deliberations deliver too simple an explanation -- leading to the reason i chose not to major in astrophysics and why i decided to leave it be. the imagination is a dainty way of escaping realities that are too crazy; why chase it away with aced mathematics and chasms of looming disaster when you can leave it to a daydream?