February 13, 2010 § Leave a comment

After a certain hour, it doesn’t seem reasonable to go to sleep.

There’s something magical about the hours of 3 and 4 am. It’s so dark and quiet and still, and it feels like all the world but you is in deep slumber, dreaming dreams, resting their weary bodies. It’s just me and my iTunes right now. Been working on homework after getting home from work 3 hours ago. It’s almost as though this strange moment is a dream in itself.

It’s easy to feel lonely at this hour.

I’ve reached the point where I no longer want to go back. Life has moved on, and I’ve pretty much caught up. It’s strange to think of how much time has already gone by. Right now what I feel is mostly fascination, that my life was what it was before, that I felt what I felt, that I saw what I saw, that what I find silly now was not the slightest bit ridiculous before, and that what I said was the truest that I could have said. It’s strange that that was me, that that was my world. These things are useless to mull over, of course, but it just comes naturally at times like these. Talk about dreams.

When we die, does our life flash before our eyes? Do all the lives we lived, all the selves we were, play in fast-forward? Do our hearts remember all the little hurts, fears, rages, joys? Once upon a time, I thought that I knew.


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You are currently reading Quiet. at On the road to Marathon No. 1.


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