2 am: a sketch

the rain upstairs sounds like popcorn kernels popping in the microwave.

the rain in the basement sounds like the gentle sloppiness of a toad plodding his wet way through muddy gravel.

~ ~ ~

it’s 2 am and you’ve been avoiding it for several hours now. you’ve been watching singing videos instead, because you like to sing, but you’re terrible at it. and imperfection is something that itches deep inside.

you’ve been avoiding it, yet you know that it‘ll keep its hand firmly on your shoulder until you allow it to lead you over to your desk and into your gold-and-blue swiveling chair. it won’t let you have peace until you open wordpress and click the evasive “+” button and confront a blank page. then it‘ll leave you alone, because it knows that you won’t leave that chair until the blankness has been filled. besides, you already have a title. you thought of it when you crept upstairs at 2 am to sweep the kitchen because you had forgotten to do so after night prayers. and of course, the guilt, guilt, guilt.

because, how dare you forget?

how dare you forget about the little tilt of the puppy’s head as you crept upstairs? he was lying half-asleep on the living room rug because you had forgotten to put him to bed, and when you opened the basement door his little eyes crinkled open, half-wondering, half-blissful. yours is a face he loves more than he loves himself, and the simplicity and unconditional surrender of this small creature caused you to scoop him up and rub his tummy and cradle him in your arm as you locked up all the doors. how dare you forget him, with the pink fur around his ears from when the little boys dumped chalk all over him on Easter Sunday?

how dare you forget the hour when two of your sisters were in your room and you had to skip almost every song in your playlist because they didn’t know good music when they heard it? you insisted that they must listen until at least the chorus, and then they could play something more exciting. and you wished for a minute that there was someone who could dance awkwardly with you on the floor to the songs that you love, the ones with the strange titles. but at least your sisters listened through level of concern; they claim that it’s the only twenty one pilots song they like.

but – how dare you forget that your mother made split pea soup today? you had been waiting three years to taste it again – you never forgot the last time she made it the morning after Thanksgiving. yet today she made it again and it’s already slipping your mind.

the hand is back on your shoulder, pushing you painfully into your chair. it won’t let you off this time – because – how dare you forget that your brother shaved the sides of his head today? it looked absolutely terrible and now you feel a little bit guilty about telling him that. perhaps you shouldn’t have given your exact opinion, but it really did look awful-

and how could you have forgotten about the song you began writing the night before? you were trying to write something despite the fact that a string was missing on your guitar – but you figured out a soft little riff that seemed to be content just being alive-

how dare you-

-go two months without writing anything about life, when you have the ability. when you have an abundance of moments that each deserve a sentence simply because they existed.

you’re afraid to write something simple when you think that everyone expects something profound. but the hand pressing firmly on your shoulder, holding you captive in front of your laptop, is asking for nothing but words.

you’ve given it enough, now. the rain is gone, neither popcorn or wet toad being heard. the philosophical sentences that ran through your head as you swept the kitchen at 2 am were never born, and that’s alright. the pressure on your shoulder disappears and you’re left with the 692 words in front of you.

but words are enough.

“write something, yeah it might be worthless…

you’ll see purpose start to surface”

kitchen sink

36 thoughts on “2 am: a sketch”

  1. Oh damnnn ! How good this is 😭😭😭

    I hate it when someone doesn’t like songs by Twenty one pilots.. They are just impatient you know.

    Ugh! Anyway, they will never understand.

    Not just this part, I love the whole thing ❤️💯

    By the way, I’ve written a poem dedicated to Twenty one pilots 😉

    Liked by 2 people

    1. thank you very much :))

      I completely agree … and wow you’re so right – they are just impatient! that’s exactly how I’d explain my sisters’ attitudes 🙂 i wish they could understand but at this point they’re only at surface-level with music and won’t bother to look deeper into songs. maybe one day I can get them to appreciate the lyrical genius of twenty one pilots!

      oh awesome! – i love your poems and i love twenty one pilots so i know it’ll be great! have you posted it yet or is it coming up soon?
      thanks again for stopping by and commenting :))
      power to the local dreamer ||-//

      Liked by 3 people

      1. That’s true! I’ve suggested to many of my friends but they gave up too early. And I’ve given up on recommending them anymore 😂😂

        Not sure how it is! It is a combination of verses inspired by different songs by Tøp.

        I’ll post it this Friday 😉

        And you’re most welcome !

        Power to the local dreamer ||-//

        Liked by 1 person

    1. you’re so sweet … i’m glad you liked it 🙂 i agree, guilt is something that i’ve always felt more strongly than anything else, but i guess in a way it’s also a motivator. if not for guilt, i bet a lot of things would be different – in a negative way – in my life. so i’m almost grateful for it in a way 🙂 i’m doing well … keeping sane in this not-so-sane times … how are you?
      thank you so much for reading and leaving your kindness too ❤
      power to the local dreamer ||-//

      Liked by 2 people

  2. This is amazing. Your prose is just stunning, and I can’t help but relate to the feeling of wanting to write, needing to write, but trying to find the right words. So well done!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. thank you so very much zoe ❤ ❤ ❤ i can only say the same about your wonderful writing…
      and yes… that urge deep down that i seem to stuff away most of the time sometimes just can't be ignored any longer and i'm always happiest when i give in 🙂 *which i should realize at this point XD* i'm so glad you can relate! ❤
      power to the local dreamer ||-//

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I understood it and absolutely loved it 🙂 that urge you describe has been torturing me for two weeks now, and this inspired me to try harder to figure out what it wants from me xD *opens a new post draft*

        Liked by 1 person

        1. oh my goodness clara i’m so happy to have inspired you … i know the struggle all too well. and i just saw a post of yours in my reader – *squeals* – gonna hop over there right now! ❤ ❤

          Like

    1. oh aria thank you so much ❤ we do forget so easily, and every once in a while that realization catches up with me and knocks with wind out of my lungs and this post was basically a long and confusing exhalation. thank you for stopping by and leaving such a sweet comment! ❤ ❤
      power to the local dreamer ||-//

      Like

  3. This was lovely. 🙂 There’s so many little moments we forget, and if we don’t write them down, they just disappear unless something triggers the memory later on. Simple becomes profound!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. yes … that’s exactly what happens! i really need to get into the habit of writing more things down … one day i know i’m going to appreciate it a lot. because who knows, those little moments may end up being a lot bigger than any of us could have foreseen 🙂
      thank you for the lovely comment ❤ ❤
      power to the local dreamer ||-//

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Oh JUL!! Chills… The 2 am experience and the struggle to rid yourself of the weight of a looming project is so beautifully captured *sigh*
    The pictures you paint with your words… Amazing.
    ❤❤❤
    ~D

    Liked by 2 people

    1. oh carlye your comment put the biggest smile on my face! it means a lot coming from someone who is a FABULOUS writer herself. i only wish i had your superpower of coming up with entire NOVELS and finding the determination to stick with them till the end! I guess you could almost say that you’re a marathon writer and i’m a sprinter :PPP
      thanks again for the lovely comment ❤ ❤ ❤
      power to the local dreamer ||-//

      Liked by 1 person

  5. i-
    this was just the actual epitome of beautiful writing and i looooove it! it’s SO relatable omw. you have left me speechless once again, my friend, well done *fistbump* 🖤🖤🖤

    Liked by 3 people

  6. AHHHH I love thissssss

    the aesthetic. ❤

    THE PUPPY PART. my heart can't take the adorableness of that.

    I love the way you used the phrase, "how dare you," in a commanding way. It really brought an original flavor to this. 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

share your thoughts :)

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s