It's currently 4 a.m. It's really dark and quiet in my bedroom -relatively quiet- I can still hear the highway rustle from afar. If it was any more quiet I wouldn't be able to sleep at all, then my thoughts would be way to loud to get any peace. They would cry at me, wouldn't let me rest and they would rush through my head to remind me of thinking them. But in this night I don't want to think, I haven't got enough energy to think about my life. If it's worth living, or why words are so powerful even though they are just some random letters ranked in a line. My life isn't even long enough to solve all these mysteries.
Instead I listen to the night and her inhabitants. And I ask myself what goads them, what makes them get in to their car and drive right into the dark night.
Is it pain? Do they search for something they've lost and that can be found only in the dead of the night?
Is it love? Can they only think about their great love and have to visit him or her no matter what time it is?
Is it desire? Desire of foreign countries and cities, strange places that call out each and everyone's name?
Is it a whispering voice that makes them keep going on and on with no aspiration of rest to not miss any moment of their short life? To appreciate every single second?
Or is it just blank fear? Do they run away from the sunlight, the new day and the new opportunities every day brings with himself?
Every night contains everyone of this emotions and feelings, many unbelievable stories no matter if they're happy, mysterious or just deadly sad. And I'm still lying here in my bed wondering in which category my story could possibly fit. The story that was, the story that is and the story that will be. I don't know the answer yet but I will know it -someday- and you will be with me and you will also know who you are and who you want to be, because you let me and my message be a part of your life. And I wanted to thank you for that!
