it's 11:11

Dear friends,

I turn over at night, thinking, wishing, hoping, dreaming.  I toss and turn and turn and toss for hours. 11:11.  1:30.  3:30.  5:00.  The sun greets me waving its warming beams into my sheer curtains like some haunting of happiness.  


I just need a little more room to breathe.  I'm drowning, suffocating in the wild roller coaster of decisions.  I want to rip off the blinders, and be free.  Oh, freedom the little licks of you I taste on my tongue are so satisfying, so beautiful, so welcoming.  But, I choose the blinders don't I?  And then I laugh.  Oh, me.  You are so reckless.  You should wizen up--and then I don't.  Ignorance is bliss, so they say.  For a while it is, and then the daunting task of unraveling the tangled stings of a million dumb moments eats your heart out.  But, isn't it all worth it?  Sitting there detangling the strings, because sometimes they speak back.  Sometimes, maybe, it just might not be tumultuously dumb.  Or maybe it is more than just that.  More than black or white.  More than right or wrong.  But, some shade of effervescent gray.  My gray world.  


"In my big dreams I wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clovers."  ~something corporate. 


So, I just lay there. . . thinking, wishing, hoping, dreaming. . . wishing, wishing on a thousand universes.   And then the sun in it's warming light welcomes me--births me into the turbulent day, like a baby being welcomed into the world.  Damn you, light.  Sometimes I just want to lay there in the darkness of another night.

(photos by maria)

Good night,