There is something really strange going on with me right now. I lie awake in bed for hours, desperate to hear a story. Just a story. A fairy tale. Some make-believe series of events that will inspire me. Take me to another world and show me how by being there, I will be a better person when I get back home. Make me laugh and cry. Love and hate. Make me having to take a walk because I will get too emotional with it. And when I’m done, make me want to stay. Make me desperate, willing to do anything to be there, and completely break my heart when reality comes crashing down on me. I am begging you. Please.
I am wide-awake at four in the morning imagining never-ending oceans, mountains, mysterious doors and talking animals. Wondering what it would be like to fly and to breathe under water and to jump from the high cliff I really shouldn’t have climbed in the first place.
I want to run. Feel the wind tangling my hair and my lungs and legs burning from exhaustion. I want to paint beautiful landscapes in the wrong colors and dance in the rain. Follow the sun and the moon, name the stars. Fall asleep next to a campfire and tell stories about the brave knights who slayed the dragon in the East.
Take me away from here. Teach me. Show me. Make me feel alive. But take me home again so I can write about it. It would all be too precious to get lost in our memories.
Little Pocket Journal 
Insomnia is a demise that I have been cursed with each night as I attempted to briefly leave this world to seek some form of solence. Yet I seek a balance. A place in my own life to place concrete roots.
LikeLike