lost between the lights and unbelonging,

I've been up.

yourwrite:

I’ve been up for however many hours it took the dawn to bring light and the fog to blanket everything in bluish white. I’ve been sitting, thinking, talking. I’ve been wrapped in blankets wondering. I’ve been up for however many hours it took for the fog to lift and the sun to shine— delicately at first but then with more intensity. I watched clouds break away, reveal the sun, shift back in place and plunge the streets in darkness. I watched birds peck insistently at frozen ground attempting to find a meal, and wondered about the worms and if they’ve come to terms with the fact that they are the object of a million ravenous birds’ affections. I let my dog out, he ran, chased squirrels, each thinking they were taunting one another. I crack my knuckles again and again, wishing I could break each finger and reset them into something better at being what I want to be. I’m not tired, but I’ve got callouses at the back of my brain and everyone’s asking “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO BE?” I can’t answer, will never answer because I already AM and I am unsure, unwilling, and in disbelief that the measure of a man or a woman is calculated in the years they spend in class and in the word counts of essays written to prove that the money we are spending is gaining us knowledge.

I’ve been up for however many hours it took me to realize that the only thing I want to do is write and sing and love, and if that’s not good enough than I don’t want to be fucking good enough for anything but my own standards.

I’ve been up.

(-what’s mine is yrs.)