I just want to write..

Stillness. Quiet calm. This is what the night means to me these days. Me, alone in my room, not able to sleep because I want to squeeze every second I can out of these moments. The night wraps around me, a blanket of brooding. Why is it every night that I long for the same thing? A reprieve. To hold in abeyance the oncoming changes dauntlessly careening its way into my life.

Never in my life had I been so free. I am my own man now, providing for myself.. setting my own limits. Yet I am not reaching my potential. I am stagnant in my current stage of life, this I know.. Yet why am I so afraid of taking that step forward?

If I met myself having this problem, I know what I would say: “be strong, hang in there. Everybody goes through this. This is just a leap you must face to get on with the rest of your life.” I know I am feeling this way because I am on the edge. This is hesitation biting me right before I take the dive. This is but normal.

No matter how many times I repeat these words (I have done so millions of times –a liturgy against my fears of the future), it is no match for the stillness of the night.

I will fall asleep. The night will end, and the day will pass me in the blink of an eye.

Again and again, it will repeat itself until the day comes when I take the plunge.

The thought of having to start again.. of finding my own way again is terrifying. But only because I am looking forward. I know this. Yes, I know this. And if I am to be perfectly honest with myself, my hesitation is borne out of concern for one person. My desire to be with that person.. and the knowledge of how being away will affect that one single person in this god-awful world of ours.

No, don’t be full of yourself. I am afraid.. in doubt of my ability to function without that person’s life support keeping my heart beating, day in and day out. I am a baby, safe and sound in his mother’s womb, terrified of the big loud world outside.

Sssh.. lets keep it a secret. Just between the two of us.. that I am capable of such thoughts.. of being so weak. Of writing words so soft and shallow, in doubt of my abilities, so full of insecurities. That I am clinging on to how things are when I know all too well, that things are just scary because they haven’t happened yet.

This is not me. This is just me during the night. When the stars are out and the moon is peeking behind the clouds. When the only sound I can hear is the sound of the electric fan’s engine churning away at the atmosphere of my room.. my world until the morning.

I just want to write.

Sweet dreams, my love.