I woke up this morning and felt a little shocked peering at the slivers of light cutting through the blinds.
Not shocked because it was early, or because my eyes were getting used to things, but rather because I expected rain.
And isn’t it funny how things turn out some mornings.
I’ve noticed my days are becoming increasingly enticing. Noticed how I’ve stopped sleeping, noticed how I’ve started staring at things, like chairs, badly executed graffiti, people’s freckles, and other such effects in plain sight. Everything becomes beautiful after a couple hours of looking. How can I dream of dreaming below something so captivating as my ceiling?
When I do sleep I dream of you and me doing everyday things like buying groceries or comparing fabric swatches. When I do sleep I dream of waking up, but most of the time I forget to go through with it.
I spend a lot of time lost in thought, so much so that when walking I often slam right into telephone poles and parking meters. Peppering my limbs with bruises they don’t necessarily deserve. My thoughts lose me to fantastical pictures of cabins, cold, and in solitude, inhabited by me. Here in my cabin in my mind I sit beside a fire, wearing something very gaudy and made of silk, listening to sad music, and smiling quite a bit.
I know full well if I went to a cabin in the woods, dressed myself in silken robes, and drank up morose melodies all I would really do is daydream about bumping into city signage.
And isn’t it funny how my thoughts become infinities.
More and more often I’m forgetting what I’m trying to say mid sentence. I think this is best for everyone.
I’ve been trying to listen more, not to songs or cityscapes, but humans. The most difficult sound. All I’ve heard so far is even the most quiet mind’s greatest desire is to be heard.
Once upon a time I found out not everyone will love everything I do, and that was my happy ending. It was a little uncomfortable, but like vitamin C or getting scammed on craigslist it made me stronger, understand how things work a little more.
To conclude, the thing I think about most, is how little I know about life. The conventional version that is. I could not point Poland out to you on a map, I don’t know when to stop talking, when I floss my gums bleed, I still cry when I fall, I cannot conceptually grasp tax forms, and I don’t have the upper arm strength to hold my body weight.
Tomorrow I will wake up and be surprised by the sun, having predicted rain. I am still learning clouds don’t always indicate a storm. Tomorrow I will wake up having had 6 hours of sleep, approximately. I don’t think that’s very good for me, but I’ll drink some coffee, and pretend, like everyone else, that it keeps me awake. It’s funny how we all need an excuse to be exuberant.
When I raise my voice about a sensitive subject and forget people can hear me, when I question the meaning of life, when I smile with something in my teeth, or fart in a quiet moment, or cry because a car on the street has a nostalgic quality that’s so overwhelmingly delightful I just can’t keep it in, I will blame it on the caffeine.
And isn’t it funny how that will make it all ok.