What kind of human being can sleep at 3am? I guess all the normal ones. As my fingers freeze while I type I can’t help but wonder what a normal life is like. What is considered “normal” anyways? Waking up and going to work for 8am, then working till 5pm, to come home to your perfect significant other and well behaved daughter and son, with a home cooked dinner on the table? Is the American Dream something that we all strive for? What if it’s something I don’t want?
90 words, 20 minutes. I would be terrible at essays.
I was always told I should become a writer, and each day it is becoming clearer than before. Curled up in my jacket, listening to some Gabriella Cilmi on the 14th floor of a cute little apartment building at 3am writing something for nothing. Something for closure, but what kind of closure am I looking for? Why do I continue to write down thoughts and feelings I have if they are only going to be posted on pages like facebook and blogspot. Wasted words. Maybe one day I will look back and read these and remember how I felt when I typed such things, or how cold my toes were.
Or maybe these journals will make their way into a book one day. I wouldn’t mind seeing an entry like this in chicken soup, I see those books everywhere. Just more wasted words, but this time in a bestselling novel that people buy as gifts for others. They never actually get read. I owned four and can’t say I read one word other than the title on the front, but we did own them... I guess that’s something.
Maybe these entries will find themselves in a writing portfolio one day. I’ll be applying for a magazine I love, and ill sneak this sucker into one of my collections to show them a little bit of who I am, or where I come from, although this journal has not really been any of those things.
Maybe this will be one of those things I never get around to saving. One of those “for my eyes only”
What kind of human being can’t get to sleep at 3am?
Wasted Words.
