Monday, November 5, 2012
Sometimes I don't feel like I'm really living unless I'm tossing and turning in bed in ecstasy, wondering what possibilities tomorrow might bring, imagining 542,364 different conversations that can be had with That One Guy.
Normally I'm tossing and turning in bed out of insomnia because I don't feel like there's any reason to go to sleep just to wake up to another day, with no plans other than class, then food, then more sleep. I just can't will myself to lie in bed unless there's something more to really look forward to. I'd rather just stay awake, aimlessly scroll up and down Facebook, and read random articles on the Thought Catalog all night.
That One Guy. I've had 4 of them in my lifetime. And despite all the heartaches that accompanied each of them, I really felt like I was living during those 4 times. I showed the best side of myself, and the worst side of myself. I was real. I was raw.
Does my credibility go down if I compare life to carrots? If I say that carrots taste good when cooked, but are best for you when raw? If I say that life is like kind of like that too?
Or do I just end up confusing you because life can't be cooked?