the awkward grasp for the pen

it's after midnight again. it's another night of restlessness and as my head hits the pillow thoughts come alive. i groan, roll over and click my bedside light on. now for the pen. without leaving the comfort of my twisted sheets, i reach precariously for the only pen in sight. the essence of pen to paper must be kept alive, for there will always be time for blogs later.

like now.

so what were these revelations so worthy of postponing the attempt at sleep?

#1: the sobering realization that i no longer believe in love. (just for me- i am sure you have a wonderful "in-love life" – there's a difference between love and 'in-love', you know) but i just don't believe i will ever love again (or be loved for that matter). not at least in the way i have loved. it's like when you go long enough without feeling something, you forget what it felt like and in forgetting, you dismiss it as a possibility. i have forgotten what it feels like to be in love, and i have only seen it's dark side for the past several years. i suppose that since i cannot comprehend it's re-appearance, when it does emerge i will cherish it, for i have never known the love i will someday experience.

#2: sometimes when you set out looking for something, you find yourself instead

#3: bodies are physical traps for shining souls if only we could see beyond the darkness of appearances

#4: will our small actions change anything at all? such as an attempt to make a connection with someone that would otherwise never have been made. does this affect the pull of the universe– to extend communication to those who are far away, to those who least expect it? what is destiny and what is just a failed scientific experiment? mixing worlds by choice, not default.

i'm nuts. for ever turning the light back on. but then again, even stars look blurry in the heat.