Would it surprise you to know that when I see you doing everything you said you would that it doesn't spark jealousy in me? I see you on the water, I hear you singing, and I think, "Well, yeah." And then, "My turn." I don't really know what it is about seeing people I was once very close to achieving their dreams, but man, it's inspiring. It's concentrated inspiration, dark liquid in a bottle stopped for no good reason that I can see. When I see you happy, I remember my way back to that bottle and I want to break it and release my second chance.
I keep remembering my life isn't over and that no one can decide anything for me. That doesn't mean that I don't take my kids and my husband into account, but dang it all if they don't pretty much support me 100% in my choices. Mostly because, while my hopes for the future may be a bit off the expected path, they won't bankrupt us or embarrass the family name. Anymore than usual... After all, I just want to write. The possibility of publishing is nil. But the practice of writing is healing and may be enough to be my thing, my inspiration, my doing what I should be doing.
And at 11:00 at night it seems so easy. When it's dark out, it's easy to believe that all one needs is a plan and a list, and they are armed to start their lives in a completely new direction.
This is the time of night for "what ifs" and "why nots."
This was written in the full throes of Ambien. Will it still make sense to me in the morning?