hoping that you all get to the point where you stop caring what everyone else thinks you should be doing
and the only thing you focus on is what you need to do to get to the happiest point in your life
it’s four in the morning and the birds are chirping so incessantly that you would think they can’t wait for the sun to rise. their exclamations, teeming with zeal and gentle bliss, are distant in the misty thickness and painted with a beautiful peachy lightness- imagine you walk past a stranger, your temple beading with sweat, they thrust their hybrid water gun/handheld fan out towards your face and mist your sticky skin with cool water at the height of the muggy june afternoon heat. it’s four in the morning and i haven’t been able to sleep all night. i am aware that i am constantly changing, but don’t you find that the days often pass by so quickly that you rarely realize the changes right as they take place, one by one? it takes months, it takes graduating high school or college, it takes landing your first ten dollar an hour plus job, it takes landing yourself in the hospital with a few broken limbs, it takes landing on your ass with a broken heart, it takes years, decades sometimes to realize in retrospect how much you have changed. it’s four in the morning and you are asleep next to me, your chest rising and falling in a way that makes you seem, exasperated almost. it is heavy, and you bring yourself to a state of half-awake, half-comatose grogginess every now and again in order to reposition your arms and neck. each time i reach over and push the hairs out of your face, behind your ears, and snuggle into you until you reposition yourself twenty or so minutes from now. i then place my hand on your hand and cock my head to the right slightly, thinking about how i will not grow weary of this constant movement, this constant change. i have noticed lately that i even take comfort in the fact that you are the kind of person who is even restless in your sleep, even anxious in your rest. truth be told, give me a camera, a bicycle, and a path to follow, i’ll follow it until i’ve wandered into the blinding comfort that i can’t find my way back, can’t guide my way with a map. i read a good bit on Ansel Adams in the past hour and i am beginning to think that the anxious ones, the ones who can’t stop tapping their toes against the polished hardwood floor when sitting upright in a rigid-framed desk, the ones who can’t stop thinking a million and one thoughts a minute as they wind down for the night, the ones who, every so often, just disappear at daybreak and return covered in dirt and the remnants of once-pulsing adrenaline with a sense of fulfilled wide-awake solitude present in their exchanges as the last licks of light are fading into the evening, we are the ones who change at an ever-quickening rate, who change drastically, the ones who never go back, who keep moving forward at paces fit to shift landmasses. we burst through the front door after a full day away from it all, chest heaving, with a look somewhere in between absolute madness and super concentrated sanity, as if we’ve struck gold in the backyard, but we probably did something more reasonable, like drew out the business plans for that million dollar idea or found the perfect chord progressions paired with the perfect hooks for that magnificently infectious set of songs. this used to frighten me, but i realized this past night that i have been changing for the better and that is not something to be afraid of, that is something to celebrate. it is now five in the morning. your cat leaps off of my lap and onto your desk, perching herself up by the window, listening for birds and their chips and chirps. you roll over and let out some sort of muffled grumbling sound that i cannot quite make out, and in your faint, dark silhouette i think only of how truly radiant you are. i watch in stupified awe as you change for the better second by second, day after day. you keep revealing layer after layer of lovelier shades of lavender and cerulean, fuscia and carnelian. but it’s not just you and it’s not just me. we each grow separately, and we each grow together. a few years ago i saw two trees that had grown, first alongside each other, and then into each other. gnarled and misshapen as they were, i remember it being one of the most miraculous natural works of art that i had ever seen. i just never imagined that the same thing could happen within myself. it’s five in the morning and the sun is rising. i felt a definite change within myself just now i see it there and i am happy for it. i only hope that with each new day, the sunrises continue to get brighter. i’ll say it again til i can’t say it no more- good morning.
beautiful piece written by a beautiful woman
boys are nice but have you considered this: girls