I'm trying to make a difference in this world. I'm trying to keep philosophy alive. I'm trying to influence your mind all the while mine is traveling an a billion directions at once.
I believe a little insanity is a good thing.
I'm inspired by life and I'm inspired by brains and nature and love and happiness and obsessiveness and anything else that's in this universe and outside of it. I think too much. I write compulsively. I don't want society to stop reading. I don't want society to stop creating. I want to contribute to this planet's literature that is so often hidden under media, pop culture, and other things that won't really matter in fifty years.
These are my thoughts, and I can't control them. I can't control the words that flow out of my brain and through my body.
This is word vomit. And I'm not cleaning it up.
of you
I’m awake. I’m tired. I’m conscious, yet still overcome by sleep, and everything is so peaceful. The light is dim from the morning sun and my room is filled with a cool, still air that has been unstirred. Birds are chirping and hooting and fighting against my window and they’re all so alive while I’m still slowly being pushed out of the realm of sleep.
In my head is a never-ending dream. At night, I dream of things I don’t normally pay much attention to. In unconsciousness, my mind plays tricks and makes up stories I’m not talented enough to make up on my own.
When I wake up, I’m still dreaming. Before I fell asleep, I was dreaming. Dreaming of possibilities and things that would make me the happiest. Dreaming up scenarios that would make this peaceful sleep even better.
I dreamt I wasn’t lonely in this bed. This bed is so big. I dreamt I had someone to lay on, someone to fall into the arms of unconsciousness with, someone to be overcome by that which is the most peaceful. I dreamt you were here. Because it was so quiet. And this bed is so big.
My eyelids are heavy and my limbs have melted into the bedsheets. Night has transformed to day, late-night chatter has turned into early-morning slumber. How lovely it would be to wake up into another dream. How lovely it would be for dreams to be reality. For you to be by my side. Overcome by sleep. Overcome by the moment when nothing else matters. How lovely it would be.
But this bed is still so big.
