Two AM and here I lay, blanket and comforter shielding me from the fan-induced breeze blowing gently above me. I can’t seem to calm my mind, prevent the endless parade of disjointed logic which keeps me from rest, as if we weren’t meant to unite.
This year has been different, three months have gone by and yet I find myself faced with the sort of thoughts that could only creep up on you, slithering slowly under the sheer gravity of unbridled possibility. Needs, family, health, happiness, duty, deference, priority, time – they occupy the mental real estate previously reserved for what now resembles stability by way of unopened eyes.
It would neither be fair nor accurate to describe my life as anything short of perpetual positivity, peppered with lows no more frequent or taxing than those of others. But as I turn from side to side, subject to subject, I can’t help but wonder if this is truly the path that I’m supposed to be on, the path which down the road assuages any previously plaguing qualms. I realize that only hindsight can provide this sort of guarantee, but that doesn’t seem to make me want it any less.
Likewise the ever permanent presence of life’s pinnacles and troughs fail to keep me from staring up from down below. Perhaps this staring is beneficial, an uplifting sign of the aberrational nature of my current state. I sure hope so.
