The time between events seems so much shorter and insignificant when we crunch it into mere days and weeks.
Malachi 3: 10 (NKJV)
I trembled and perspired because I was letting you into my mind, laying before you a very intimate story. Now all I can do is trust you to understand how I feel, to a certain degree, and leave it at your feet.
How scary it is, though.
It’s 2:44 A.M. [as I begin to write this] and I want to walk out into eventide and drive away.
There isn’t a terrible situation that I need to escape from, I just want to ride along barren concrete, beneath filmy streetlights. I want to be swallowed up in the pitch, experience a placid town, and sweep by humanity as it’s tucked away into quiet corners, sleeping. But at the moment, I am tucked away in my own corner. It’s dangerous outside at this ungodly hour. I will not go anywhere.
Maybe one day it will be safe to walk out into the cover of eventide.
Last night, I had a dream that I wrote an award winning poem. This morning, I woke up and couldn’t remember what I wrote.
My Lit professor just got back to me about my midterm. He thinks I write with stylistic variety.
I really hope my 2:00 A.M. writing makes sense.