20 20, the numbers for balance and harmony, relationships and trust.
always future thinking, this mind of mine.
staying present was tough enough in 2018, but peace and serenity were found in this moment. this one right here, this one that has my fingertips type-typing away. this moment in time where i can't sleep, can't turn off the thoughts dancing around in my mind, so i choose to succumb, turn on the bedside lamp. orange glow cast across my wall, propped up against feather pillows under a duvet. it's winter, after all. maybe it's a sign to write, i think. to put pen to proverbial paper in an age where internet and technology trump all other forms of communication. or so that's what it feels like. even if you wish to return to the age where everyone is reading newspapers on a streetcar instead of plugged into a device, void of any consciousness of the outside world. maybe technology has fostered a selfish society, one where each human thinks only of themselves and their small little world, plugged in behind a phone. but then i think, my phone! my world! i hear stories of people freaking out when they cannot find their tiny device, only to shortly thereafter realize they are on a phone call... is this what the future looks like? catapult me into the 1950s again, please. dress me up and pin me on your wall, red lips and all. here i am, jumping from the future to the past and back again. reset the device, i'm lost, it's frozen. time is just time, when you're in the here and now.
let's all get to a place of comfort in the here and now, shall we?
stay in your bed where it's warm and safe on new years eve. nevermind the invites, nevermind your device, lulling you and enticing you like the little addiction it is. addiction to a fantasy, to a fake world where everyone smiles and everything is sun-kissed and beautiful, colourful, vibrant and visually pleasing. real life looks like junk drawers in the kitchen, a fine layer of dust on a corner you missed while wiping down your furniture on sunday morning, finger prints on your mirrors and windows from toddlers discovering their reflections for the first time. real life is missing your ex while understanding as clear as a cloudless sky why it failed and why he likely walks around with pain. real life is messy and different each day, like a box of chocolates according to forest gump's mother-- you never know what you're going to get. they mustn't have had guides with chocolate boxes back then. much the same as they didn't have cell phones. we're just living in a culture of wanting more. more information about everything...including the damn chocolates we buy a loved one. more information about what's to come, that's where i really need to focus. bring it all back to the present. type-typing away because sleep just wouldn't come.
maybe it's time to try again. close the device, sign out, and go the fuck to sleep. that's all you're supposed to do right now, anyway. bring it back to the here and now. you're going to be very sleepy tomorrow.
it's 12:56 am.
