The tangled mix of jadedness and perpetual naivete is what makes up the  contents of my head and heart. The words, they are shaken and stirred with lyrics and coffee with flavored cream, like some bittersweet lullaby that never puts me to sleep. I stare at the walls in the middle of the night, writing mental-novellas, trying to lull the muses to silence. The sun rises, I make another pot of coffee, and nurse bloodshot eyes in the morning (ever grateful for big sunglasses). I lie and say I am really just a morning person, but really I am just grateful for the day so that I can stop fighting so hard with the night.

I get lost easily. Landmarks, they never seem to stick enough, and I have never been able to feel which way I am facing. My head spins and swirls to the music playing. My life soundtrack, she pulls at my heartstrings and wandering soul, but I still persist in being challenged by direction. This time now, it feels like everything is ripe with possibilities. The score is soaring, heart-racing, the thump thump beat of anticipation and persistence (I am nothing if not persistent).

So, I’m taking risks, leaping off into the ocean, making those twists and turns that I have put off for too long. I refuse to be afraid to live.

Pour the coffee and turn the music up. This city has its dark places, but it has its glitter and hope, too.

“It’s all happening.”

Time Spent in Los Angeles :: Dawes

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