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Whispers In The Night
Who knew about the advantages of journaling? Maybe maintaining one isn't all that bad.
Dear Letter Opener,
The night is darker, almost spookier than usual and yet, I find solace within.
It’s 1:44 AM on what should have been a happening Saturday night in a young adult’s life and yet, my comfort lies in the fact that my mind is free of clutter, loud music and lonely drives back home. For the most part, I’ve always been the designated driver.
Words, like the symphony of an orchestra, are falling together in perfect harmony as the clickety-clack of the keyboard overshadows all the sound in the room, falling on ears that have longed for nothing but an ominous round of applause. Success is distant but awaits with bated breath nonetheless.
A work of art has been brewing in mind for quite long, waiting for the signal to be executed but I’ve not found it yet. It’s not time. In fact, it’s something much better than the clock that ticks away without permission. It’s something that governs time, molds it, makes it dance to its tunes. With it, you can manipulate time. It’s consistency. Not finishing what one starts is dishonoring not the work but the one who starts.
And yet here I am, waiting to rejoice in the handful of moments where anything can be made possible, not because it was impossible before, but because in your mind it was. Have you ever experienced that incredible sensation? You must have. It’s rare but it pays us each a visit at least once. The one where you possess the magical touch of Midas, the strength of Hercules, the intelligence of Einstein, the wit of Wilde, and the wealth of Masa? It's a breathtaking feeling, both empowering and humbling. I’d give everything away to dwell in that state eternally. For I know, I’d regain all of it in an instant.
I don’t trust feelings, however. The fact that hides in plain sight, is that you’re not your feelings, you’re merely a carrier. The more I dwell on this thought, the more I introspect our roles are carriers—specifically the part where we’re prone to carry negative feelings longer than positive ones. Oh, how the mind has all of us fooled and yet, it’s the heart that aches because of the feelings that the mind instills. Why don’t we ever play with our minds?
What’s amusing is that inspiration strikes us as at the most undesirable hour but when we need it the most, it’s far from within our reach. Would the world be a better place if inspiration struck on Monday, the 1st of January?
We look for fresh starts, especially after fighting valiantly with a negative situation. But we remain oblivious to the relentless passage of time, which urges us to recognize that a new beginning awaits at our command, with each passing second.
I have rambled for quite some time, with each paragraph diverging from the last, yet somehow they all intertwine like the enigmatic universe we occasionally distrust. It is now 2:12 AM, and I have far from captured all my thoughts in writing. While my mind may find solace in the dead of night, my eyes do not fully support this decision.
My faith in humanity is restored as I realize that understanding and appreciating someone's work relies heavily on the individual perceiving it. Some may deem this a waste of their time, but for those who truly comprehend, I smile in tranquility, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to pen the next piece.
Journal more folks.
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