Moments of breathlessness

It was dark. The noises surrounding me were familiar, mostly because of the frequency which I have been going to the theater. Everything seemed normal. And then I couldn't breathe. It wasn't an allergy attack. It wasn't a panic attack. It was longing. As the rat and the man picked up the shiny copper pot and proceeded to create art in culinary form, I couldn't breathe. I don't have these moments in my life much. It's not because I don't experience great longing anymore, but because I'm surrounded by those things for which I have longed in the past. But this, this copper pot, and the sight of the dancing blue flames of the stove reflected in it's gleaming surface stirred up a longing so strong it still takes my breath away. I want to cook, go to culinary arts school, I want to be a chef in a lively, active kitchen. It's the one longing in my life that is in direct conflict with every other longing I have. It's the one longing in my life that shall go unfulfilled. For, if I chased after this dream, everything else important would have to be pushed to the wayside, left for a time when I could pay more attention to them. Yes, my longing still leaves me breathless, but if I traded everything I have for it, it would leave me broken.