I haven’t been sleeping well. But that’s okay. As funny as it sounds, I know I’m in a good place when I can find more time to think(and honestly enjoy the extra time in my head..or maybe nowhere near my head but milling around in the heart, jitterbugging on the linoleum there).

Last night I had some gin/lemonade with my roommate and her friend on the porch, met a neighbor and watched a band roll in to crash for the night. The same band I heard playing from a second story window hours earlier in Lawrenceville. I was walking home from Tait’s house post-dinner and heard the beautiful noise of strings, bass, shouting singers. Nice to put faces with the moment. I went to bed and listened to my neighbor playing the saw in his backyard for a while. Sleep did not find me for some time, but the gin helped.

I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to say: I can sleep less, and be okay with it. Being tired is being something.

Maybe we are in a constant state of release. Maybe you wear through memories until they are the softest thinnest fabric and something tells you to stop because any more wear would mean tearing the sucker in two. Maybe making new ones becomes more important and then from there it isn’t a question of where your mind is—it is right here, it is processing what comes to it..pull from what you know. You learn to let go in the sweetest way. Maybe you finally become what you believe in. Maybe once that happens, you start to sleep less.