20 юли, 2014

this is not the scene of a crime

There is something quite adorable about getting up when the air outside is still cold and the sun has barely risen behind the pink clouds, coloured gently by its light. I was never a morning person (ignoring a certain week for the purpose of this statement), so I just now find the beauty of it. If only I had slept more than six hours I probably would have loved it even more. Sunday used to be a familly day and we would go somewhere and enjoy being a family. Then Sunday was turned into a day of goodbyes after a long night. But it still felt like a family day. Now I use past tense, because I don't feel like being a family with anyone. I am doing my own thing and I am twenty-one. I have awesome friends and awesome parents. I know who I am and who I want to be. I know what I want to do with my life. That is quite something and yet I feel like I have nothing when the day is over and I home and my cat knows it better than I do. She won't even try to annoy me as usual. She will just come and hit my hand with her paw and then will make this cute furstrated sound and will find something better to do than eat my hand. 
I thought it would be worth it. If you ask me again I probably won't do it. I regret being quite fast to decide the important stuff but it's not like I can call myself back in the past and tell myself not to do things. She wouldn't listen anyway. It's not even regret, just knowing. 
I used to be begging to have dreams back then. I would be imagining stories as usual and be mad in the morning when all I saw in my sleep was darkness and nothing else. Nightmares were a rare annual ocassion as well, appearing once or twise a year just for show. And I would wish so hard to dream. Now that I do and that I've drowned so many times in my sleep, I so don't want anymore dreams or nightmares. I'm sick of dark nights and big waves crushing into me. I want peace and quiet like right now. I don't even feel like turning on my music, even though the machines in my workplace are quite annoying if you are not used to them. I am, thankfully. I am once again reminded of Grey's anatomy when Derek said he loved the quiet. And me writing and having the time and inspiration to do so is awesome. Now all I have to do is also start writing my damn book, because I really want to get to the fifth part and that can only happen by writing the ones before it. 
I still want the world and I am pretty sure the answers to the three questions would be quite different now. But before that I have Fia and James to make me forget everything about nightmares and reality. 
If the storm is passing and everything is going back to normal, why do I feel like looking for a storm and standing in the rain?

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