Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

slowly starting to write once more

There’s a purple, one-pixel vertical line running down the lcd screen that I’m typing this on, and it’s bugging the everloving shit out of me.

Argh. Go away.

Anyway, It’s one twenty in the morning on labo(u)r day, and instead of, you know, sleeping, I’m waiting for something non-specific (maybe for the line to off itself) or maybe something a bit more specific. I really don’t know why I stay up this late every night that I can without collapsing the next day due to lack of sleep (so basically, whenever I can comfortably wake up at noon), it boggles me that I’ve been spending a lot of time under the moonlight and darkness and whatnot, with the buzz of T.V commercials underneath whatever music my computer decides to spit out. I remember the first time in a few months that I woke up before the sun rose rather than sleeping as it was rising, my first thought was of the hours and things I was missing out on as I lay in a comatose state, hallucinating about a stupid misadventure filled with lies, deceit, and gratuitous amounts of a lot of things (a Tarantino movie, maybe), for more than a few hours. The sun was actually out, I spent a few moments sitting on my couch staring at the window while eating a bowl of breakfast, and I realized that it was a few hours until I was “supposed” to wake up.

It’s an interesting feeling, finding out what you’ve been missing.

I have a friend who laments about never feeling “lucky”. Not in a Dirty Harry, “Are you feeling lucky, punk?” sorta way,  moreso a (oh god, I never thought I’d use a Harry Potter reference in one of these but apparently I’m that desperate and I’ve stooped that low) Felix Felicis, everything is going your way and all is right with the world sort of way. Have they really been missing out? What would happen when they finally do find themselves to be “lucky”? What would change? Something I read the other day, (conveniently copy pasted in the next sentence) seemed to resonate with their sentiment a bit too well, but that’s just how the universe is, sometimes. “I’ve never known what its like to feel her hands in mine, to feel the delicate skin, to look into a beautiful visage and think to myself how truly lucky I am.”

There’s something about the written word that just gets to me, sometimes. Sentences like that are filled with so much raw emotion that saying them out loud wouldn’t have the same effect.

But that’s just me, maybe.

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