I can’t sleep, and the gray is pushing against my window.
Let’s put together some images.
I’m obsessed with the idea of gray.
That such a simple and often overlooked word could hold such imagery, emotion, and meaning.
Gray is an idea of being in between things. It is in between colors and in between emotion. It is the cloudy sky on a dreary day but it is also the early morning, and a feeling of anticipation. It could be considered the neutral, or to represent those who live their lives between the absolute morals of others. It can leave one feeling empty or be totally overpowering.
Maybe you associate it with depression, but I feel that is much too simplistic. Gray is simply not as easily classed as bubblegum pink or blood red, perky or violent, or forest green and sea blue, growing and calming, the all encompassing gray is something much much more powerful.
I can think of nothing better to describe what I am currently obsessed with in imagery, both photographic and literary.
Stopping in the middle of the room, I dropped to the floor. A soft orange light coming from the hallway crept across the room to meet the darkness seeping in at the window. Slowly, I found myself moving. I stretched, contorting my body, finding muscles long unused, straining into shapes with no name. And, pushing against the night, I burned.
I stood, and caught myself in a mirror, shirt clinging to shaking ribs, heart beneath resounding. I was as a beast released, too long caged in the small private places of city living, unable to move for fear of upsetting some delicate something. It was momentary, no true freedom to be found between beige walls, but a hope for things to come.
it’s strange to think that this was once my home. Was I ever truly comfortable in this house? I feel so odd here that it borders on physical pain. I’ve already seen more conflict than I have in months.. and my sister’s cat is shaking, she tells me the doctors don’t know what is wrong with it. I think it’s just the energy here, the poor animal can’t take it.
I’ve had an extremely transient lifestyle, lately. A dorm is never a proper home, either. I’ve decided that even though I’m moving into a dorm at the start of this year, again, I want to move out at the first possible chance. I need a place to call my own, even for a small time. Either that or I need to truly embrace a traveling lifestyle, consider the world my home. Right now I’m in between and lost.
and I think to myself
as I watch the sun peak over building tops
how can one sleep
when there is a girl to kiss
before the train takes her to futures unknown
and roads to walk
with the first leaves of fall