I know night when there is no time tick, tick, tocking and all of our efforts are fading.
So sometimes I listen to music in the dark.
Bon Iver’s Blood Bank or Manchester Orchestra’s April Fool. Maybe even Eddie Vedder driftin’, driftin’ away.
But it only makes me remember that I have a secret I don’t know how to tell.
We do it because we are bigger than this. Because we have everything and because when we are surrounded by those we know and trust and love, we are alone.
We know tired. It simply becomes the norm. And we know more than most, that we have everything. That life does not need to be better. That it never gets easier. And we believe in God—the place we came from—because it’s in our daughter’s eyes, our son’s smile, and the buzz of hummingbird wings.
There’s no getting out of this. But sometimes, we look at the clock to see if it’s time.
But it’s not.
And never is.
I have to be patient. And fine. And better.
Modigliani’s long-necked ladies watch.
Snoopy taps the typewriter keys.
And goddammit, I’m sure everyone has had this—a dark, stormy night—but I can’t let it get to me.
There isn’t a noose that’ll hold me. A bullet that can hit the spot. And I’ve been in darkness deep enough to know it’s not strong enough to pull me under.
We all know I’ll always rise to the top, break the surface, and breathe.
Just give me a chance.