"Magic"

((I'm not sure if this is going to turn into a story or not, but man was it fun to write.))

"Some people are magical. There's just something about them that cuts through the stuff of this world and excites a part of the soul that normally lies dormant. There are some people who look strange when they fall asleep, like they're out of place in this world of human cares; people who, if this world were destroyed in an instant, they would still be there in the empty void, sleeping peacefully."

"Some people are magical, but not everyone is magical in the same way. Some people, like me, are magical because they seek it out. I surround myself with the fantastic, quest for it, seek it out. I wrestle with the world until it gives me magic because I want it that badly. There are other people, though who are magic through and through, to their very essence. She's one of them. Every word she says, every thing she does, even the way she moves and the way her face glows when she smiles, is infused with a spark of fey mystery that no conscious effort could ever reproduce. Every brief encounter tears my defenses to shreds, leaving me ravaged and overcome with an indescribable longing - for her of course, but more so for distant shores and high mountaintops, soaring trees in untouched forests and the riotous colors of heathland in the midst of blooming season. Time becomes meaningless outside the recurring cycle of dawn and dusk, midday and midnight; distance matters only as it measures the separation between me and my goals; actions bow in reverence to quests, and words have power. Not the 'sticks and stones' kind, but real Power of the kind no linguist or physicist could ever hope to explain."

"Some people are magical, but perhaps it is a curse to know them. Can one really become close to someone imbued with that kind of magic? Or is it a fruitless effort, like standing at the top of a hill and trying to embrace the sun?"