| 2019 | 03 | 19 | end credits |

 the time is 2am.

i sit propped up in bed with a pen in one hand and my notebook in the other. i'm staring at my blank page.

i want to fall into my bed. i want my head to touch my pillow and fall asleep.

instead. i reflect. i turn back through the pages of the past year and imagine how things were. i think the reason i don't sleep is that my imagination is too vivid and the picture it paints is more enticing than sleep.

i am just a bundle of musings. i dream too much when i'm awake.

i long to tell my stories. to write and write and share the experiences.

yet. i'm drawn inwards.

lost in my sea of faces.

dreaming so vividly i can make it feel real.

there's a hand mussing my hair, holding the back of my neck. a ghost.