I’ve always felt like I was going to miss something if I go to sleep, especially as a kid.
Back then, there used to be people outside having fun, talking, and just shooting the shit while I was in my room sitting with the window cracked. That was my lick of freedom when it was my bed time. I stayed up to witness whatever I swore was going to happen. Nothing ever did, usually.
Now that I’m at this ‘quarter-life crisis’ time, it’s almost the same thing. Literally every night I’m up reading, processing, praying, thinking, asking, and sometimes writing. Waiting for something. Waiting for something to click. Waiting for the pieces of this puzzle to make sense. Nothing has happened yet, though.
I expect an epiphany, knowing it won’t really happen like that. Or it just hasn’t yet.
But still I wait. Losing sleep. Preserving dreams.
…just searching for everything but sleep.