Sleep

Once again sleep will not come easily. My mind is at work on so many things that it is nearly impossible to sleep these days. I simply lay here in the calming heat of warm summer nights praying for rain. Rain to provide a lullaby to drown out my ceaseless thoughts. To silence the ever turning cogs. It's a reoccuring trend these days, this insomnia. The usual remedies are no longer working. Midnight bike rides on the driveway once quieted the mind. Pedalling and pedalling, faster and faster, and then, stop, cruise, close my eyes and pretend to fly. Staring longingly into the sky, wishing- as someone so eloquently articulated to me recently as their own train of thought- that I could simply jerry-rig a ladder system tall enough to touch just one of the stars. My mind is cruel though. I contemplate making contact with the constellations and then a deeply buried memory rises up; that the star I am seeking to grasp may not even exist anymore. It may have imploded centuries ago, but is so far away that we cannot know here on earth until one day it is simply missing from the horizon.

Then my wicked mind begins to gnaw at the notion that the impact we have made on this planet is fleeting and disposable. That nothing I accomplish, say, do, or create will survive beyond my demise more than a few milenieu. Dark, really. My optimistic nature is challenged by the encroaching darkness of my surroundings. The sun is on the other side of the earth now, warming the soil and lighting the day for the people it is currently residing over. So many people. So many people in the world, so many billions, so many of which I will never speak a word to. Whose eyes will never meet mine, whose lives I will never touch. At this point in my train of thought I begin to wonder: what am I doing here? I am living. But to what point and purpose? I am experiencing. But for what, and to what end? I lay my head down and ponder the insignificance of my existence, and then I realise, I can make whatever I want of this life. To sit and worry over whether or not I am doing what I ought to be doing is a waste. When the sunlight comes I will rise and do whatever it is that I do. It will matter to me and to the people in my life. I suppose in my life, that's all that really matters.

I don't know why I'm here, I just know that I want to be happy. I want to do and see and be all the things that I aspire to be. I want to love, in any capacity that seems natural. I want to find people that I can share things in my life with. That I can teach and learn from. I want to do exactly what I intend to do and not plan a moment of it beyond unrealistic, wild, and absurd imagination. I want to live. I want to sleep...