Dear 1am,

It's almost you and I should really be sleeping, but my mind is restless and my fingers are itching to type about nothing in particular and everything in general.

I miss this. This whole writing-something-writing-anything-just-writing extravaganza. I feel like I don't let my mind wander off as much as I used to. Which in a way is a good thing... My mind tends to go to some really weird places when unsupervised. But sometimes, I really need to just let it do what it can.

The problem is time... Yeah, yeah, I'm complaining again about not having enough time. What's new? Time and me, as it seems, almost always never seem to get along. My relationship with time is a lot like the tortoise and the hare... Me, being the cocky hare and time being the steady tortoise. ...And now the steady tortoise has just crossed the finish line while I slept under a tree.

Oh well.

But enough about time... I have time now. And right now, I would just like to revel at how things eventually interweave; how your dreams become a reality; how your thoughts are validated; and how things come full circle if you just give it enough time.

I know that this doesn't make any sense, but you have to give me credit for trying. What I lacked in real passion when I started this, I somehow made up for with fabulous superfluous seemingly deep metaphorical sentences that could or could not mean anything. Sentences and paragraphs that just went on and on until it came full circle...

It's almost you. It is you. And now it's past you.

...But guess what?

It will always be you. ...I just need to give it enough time.


As Always,
D.