how am i not myself?

I awoke in my bed today in that early morning quiet, a silence that pervades one’s consciousness and playfully confuses one’s senses. Am I asleep? Am I awake? I wish I could stay in that quasi-trance a bit longer, but I always end up falling right back asleep again. It’s almost as if the world for which we long, the one that is already here but not yet fully realized, becomes so close you can taste it for one precious moment. You want to hold on to it, but the real world beckons, coming at you all too soon, bringing you back from your sanctuary.

I crawled to the window, realizing that my room has become imprinted in my self, a place I could draw (if I were an artist, that is) in my sleep, guided only by my senses, accompanied only by my memories. It’ll be gone before I know it, the room and my roommates, leaving me with a year of my life, spent well.

I leave for Toronto in an hour, and then I go to Atlanta. Then, the final week of LVC. See you in a few weeks.