It is past midnight. Past. Midnight. And you know what, I am not even wondering why I am awake. I did something productive (I finished the sixth book cover for a friend of mine. Why did I even make six?). So life is good, all good, lovely.
Now, this exact second, I am continuing my productive streak by writing a new 'chapter' whilst listening to Dodie's song, Instrumental. (youtube video is at the top and I suggest you turn it on as you continue to read) and the funny thing is that I have been listening to this incredibly short - fifty seconds to be exact - song on repeat for the past two hours. You see, this is the moment where I start to wonder why this beautiful piece of art has caught my attention, why I can not seem to turn it off and why I wasn't the one who wrote this masterpiece.
Phoebe, my lovely cat, is lying next to me as I write this. Her soft belly is pressed against my leg and I can feel her breath. The rising and falling of her stomach is an almost comforting sight. Knowing that my little ball of fur is still alive subconsciously calms me down, not only that it makes me realise that the time is still passing. Some might find thinking about time confronting, but I find it relaxing to hear the ticking of a clock or count how many times Phoebe's stomach falls and rises. Over and over again.
My phone is turned on - should I turn down the brightness? - and Instagram is the app I can't seem to turn off. I'm texting my friend from England, Em. She even suggested I should write this chapter about how amazing she is.
And I agree, she is amazing.
I tell her how many words I have written so far, 301, I tell her that this chapter is not going to be long and she tells me that that's fine. She says: 'Remember you should also sleep at some point.' So hereby, thanks for the reminder Em. You. Are. Amazing.
Instrumental by Dodie is still softly playing in the background, I feel the butterflies in my stomach every time the song starts over. It is beautiful, in the same way Em is amazing. It is in a way you can barely describe. It is a fact and no one - no one - can convince me other wise. It starts of with a piano, you can hear the soft sound of the pedals being pushed down by her feet and rising back up afterwards. Rise and fall, over and over again, like Phoebe's stomach. Isn't it lovely how everything seems to connect in this chapter? (I did not intend this to happen) It's written with three-quarter notes, a waltz. Perhaps that's why it has this lovely sound to it. It is a piece of music that could help children fall asleep and keep elderly awake as they remember their first dance with the person they love(d) most.
The strings join in and I am awestruck. Awestruck and awake. Awake.
Em, I got the 500 (546, but who's counting) words, it's time for me to fall asleep while listening to the instrumental.
YOU ARE READING
Oddly Impressed and Utterly Disappointed
No FicciónHow do you describe something that isn't even there? Something that has yet to be found. I can't feel it, I can't see it, I can't smell it. But it is there, in the back of my mind. It. Is. There. An action in need of an equal opposite reaction...
