Mr. Sandman Left The Light On, The Bastard.

I don't sleep much, if you couldn't tell. I lay awake most nights wondering what the hell I'm doing. Now, before, and next. A heavy conscience for a light sleeper is a wreck of a way to spend the evening. Often I think on where I'll be, assuming I'm going somewhere. If you've no preparation for travels away then how can you really travel? I'm waiting; waiting to take the excursion of life, but like all other things of difference to me, I lack the backbone to make the choice and follow through. I know what it means. I know that life is going to go right on ahead and deal my hand whether or not I am up for it. Wherever I am, whatever I do, I should at least let the cards fall where I am happy and able to receive them with some sort of expectancy and the capacity to deal with a loss here or there. Still... Here I am, fucking around at 12:30 in the morning, pounding away at the keys that bind me to my horrors in infamy while the sensible boys and girls have all run off to play with one another elsewhere. It is the way of things. It is the strings that bind me to myself. I have been falling since I've returned home and soon I will finally stop at the bottom, only to again rise up in time for spring when love and the weather are quick to receive my long awaited longings with comfort, warmth, and distraction. Where I will be by then, who can say? Not I, nor whom I will be, for that matter. It is the great mystery, I suppose. I know, wholly anyways, perhaps three things about life. You live, you die, and things change. In saying that, it really doesn't sound like life is all that those old men boast it to be. Those old men, old soldiers of the day and night and everything inbetween, know one other thing. Details. The little details we pick up on throughout our wandering. Please, don't read anymore. I'll not have you staying up late because I decided to go ranting and raving so slightly tonight. Go to bed, you scoundrels and vagabonds. Your internet connections are not your only friends, you know. There's a nice bed and pillow or two with your name all over them; cold, lonesome, and ready for a good healthy jump. Don't forget to brush your teeth.

-Charlie