I watch the sun drip away behind the Hollywood Hills as I lie on the floor, alone again in my studio apartment. We are exposed. My apartment and I. The huge window bathes the tiny room, every inch in sunlight. The lights of houses twinkle through the foothills and as I contemplate the people who occupy those homes, I can't help but feel isolated. Starting over is bittersweet. The sky fades from blue to orange, my room darkens and my dog begins to snore. Safe inside my little box I watch the city play its rush hour dance through the glass of my window. Once again watching Hollywood through a box. But somehow the magic of television could never capture what I feel tonight.
Like a tiny bird, I sit in an open cage. There was a time not so long ago when I believed the hardest part would be the breach of my little brass door, but now that it has flung wide with illustrious vigor, and my dreams lie so close that I see them in great detail, it is my awe that cripples me. And as the last bit of paint drains from my skyline, I wonder what colors I will bring to this place and if there is room for what I can offer. If somewhere in this city of rich and poor, young and old, business suits and dreaded locks, the artist and the homeless, one little bird can leave a stoke of color no one has ever seen before.
Jumping is hard when you know you will fall and that no other option is probable. But it is not quite enough to avoid impending doom and be content with knowing I have the option to obtain the life I want. But in reality I am not at all sure about the life that I want. Not the details, not even the big picture. The unexpected moments that make me smile when I think of them years later. That's what I want. Great moments. Ones that manage to drastically change everything that I thought I knew about life. I don't want that to ever stop happening.
Now the night washes over my view, live music and weekend voices come to me uninvited. The moon is full tonight and perhaps explains my mood. I think things that have been thought a million times by many people. I write words that have already been written, but tonight they are all my own. I am finding a big difference in knowing something and feeling it for the first time. I look forward to more firsts. And also more nights watching the sunset in this wonderful little box I call home
2 comments:
can you send me an e-mail?
You know you will fall. As in you know that out of several jumps you will fall several times. However, this jump, you might land okay. Without that possibility it would be hard to jump.
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