Sunday, 13 October 2013


Alright it's late and here I am. Sick. And unable to sleep. Again. Which leads me to this... So I'm sure this happens to several of you--the midnight brain marathons. The ones where you stare at the clock as it ticks away the minutes that leads into the hours of early morning sleeplessness. 
That's me. Tonight--right now.
Oh I'm replaying every woulda-coulda-shoulda scenario and thus far I've concluded that my midnight brain marathons seem to be a mixture of a Mexican soaps on crack. Now you may be asking how this is possible. I'll tell you. It's no easy task to combine the two, but I make it work. Well I can't come to a clear conclusion to that because everyone I live with is asleep and luckily, can't read my mind. But back to the soap opera on crack. It's every detail from the memories I want to change except the colors are more vibrant the faces more exotic and the locations are full of color and richness. And in these beautiful little moments of drama I shout my feelings, and expect some outlandish return of love. I guess I am a I crawl back to bed, the sky loses it's night time pigment, and I am reminded why I love to write so much. Because in those sentences I can be free. I can write down some random thought, or feeling and be free of them.  And in so many ways a lot of the stories I write I leave some part of myself behind for others to see. And though they're my stories I hope that someone will read them and think wow I can relate. So much so, that they can't help but feel that what I've written directly includes them. When this moment happens I'll know that I've done my job as a writer. That I've helped someone escape--lose themselves, or even find a sanctuary in the off white pages. 

No comments:

Post a Comment