Excerpts from long lost journals: May 19, 2008
Around 5:45 this morning, after several hours of squeezing my eyes closed and desperately searching for a comfortable way to position my neck, I opened my eyes to see one of the most beautiful sunrise skies that I’ve seen near New York city. My head was a foggy sleepless mess, but even through blurry eyes I could appreciate the soft hue of the clouds as the first light of morning started to stretch out across the sky line. There was pink, and blue, and a quality to the light that I can’t even describe. It was gentle, and clear, and consoling. It was like I had the chance to see it before all of the smog and callousness of the city had a chance to alter it’s significance.
And my thoughts immediately went to you- like they always do when I see a beautiful thing— and I wished that you were seeing it too, at that exact moment, with me.
Sometimes I can’t figure out if the way that my heart hurts is good, or bad. Because even when it is aching so badly, I know that it is because I am in love with you.
I want to be under your sky.
