One never expects a moment of clarity before it comes to you.
Sometimes, it’s after laying in bed all night, tossing and turning.
Sometimes, it’s after watching a beautiful movie about a wonderful writer fall in love with a pig farmer.
I’ll leave the guess up to you, as to which moment is mine.
But it’s dark and all I hear is a cat licking it’s bowl.
And I’d love to clarify in which I mean clarity.
Unfortunately, I can’t make a simple statement.
But more of a nod to the feeling of clarity.
Without a specific source, or root of the clarity.
Just a clear mind,
One that’s always best for writing.
So here in the dark, I’m rambling in written form.
Without much direction or purpose, other than to do so.
And speculating why the voice in my head has a British accent, tho I’m clearly not British.
I suppose it could be thanks to the movie, which had the main character be from
But regardless, this is my night of clarity.
It’s been a bit since I’ve felt this calm, laying in the dark.
The depression seems to have taken a lovely step back.
And I’m surprisingly comfortable and at ease,
Despite my typical anxiety about not being at home on a work night.
Tomorrow, I am sure I’ll be stressing about timing,
Can’t be late to work, more meaning, can’t, not be fifteen minutes minimum early to work.
And as soon as I wake up I’m sure to be counting every minute it will take to get ready and to arrive at the parking lot,
With minimum of ten minutes to spare.
And that’s after I’ve ensured a morning coffee from the gas station.
There’s certainly something nostalgic about a hot bitter cup of gas station coffee.
But it’s warming, and gives a sort of hope to the day.
Reminds me quite a lot of the ride home from long work days.
Almost as perfect as an evening cup,
Drank while typing away at the keyboard, Editing and rambling in moms office.
Overly cluttered and yet, perfectly fitting for a chaotic mind of an aspiring author.
Coffee has somehow become such an important symbol for far too many moments.
But I suppose that’s why it’s coffee.
The thing so many people wake up to, start their day with.
Not the healthiest and yet, so fulfilling to the weakened soul.
I know that sounds a bit much for coffee,
Perhaps a bit too romantic.
And yet, it’s such a truthful way to put it.
And here I am rambling again,
This time a cat has made my legs into her bed.
The purring is something I could fall asleep to any night.
Comforting, and rhythmic.
Nothing like laying on a couch, listening to purrs of a large cat, and the feeling of clarity with an unknown source.